


Albus Potter and the Gift of the Goblin

by Hale_Bopp



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-02-22 00:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 58,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13155198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hale_Bopp/pseuds/Hale_Bopp
Summary: Albus Potter starts his first year in Hogwarts and faces quite a lot of surprises. In the meanwhile, the goblins, who had been peaceful for a long time, are starting hostile actions again. Albus is an ideal target, for several reasons... Parallel, a conflict between France and Britain is arising, with Harry in the midst...





	1. A surprising Sorting

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: Welcome! This is my first fanfiction, and the start of a hopefully great series. Planned are 7 books, analogous to the original Harry Potter series, with Albus as main character. Many interesting themes, which came a little short in Rowling's books, such as Goblins, Squibs, international magical Cooperation, Coexistence with Muggles etc. will be more in the foreground. Of course, I'm going to add some new developments in the magical world.  
> I know that this chapter is a somewhat slow start and not very creative, but I wanted to introduce some characters first. However, you should definitely proceed to chapter 2, I promise you it'll pay off.  
> Just like probably every new author, I ask you to review my work! That would be a great motivation for me to proceed faster with my writing.  
> And now, I invite you to become fans of the first hour! It's going to be epic!

 

When he boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time in his life, Albus Severus Potter felt less Gryffindor than ever. Although he had already been told much about Hogwarts from his parents and his brother, James, it was something entirely different to stand there, amidst dozens of other young wizards.

"Come on, Al. We have to find a compartment. Haven't you heard what mum said? Our parents became friends at their very first ride of this train," hissed Rose behind him. Shaking off his temporary astonishment, he followed his cousin, only to look into one full compartment after the next.

"This is all your fault, Al. If you hadn't stood around silly for ages, we'd long be sitting," complained Rose, just as short-tempered as usual.

"Shut up," said Albus. "Look, here are only two boys, there's still plenty of room for us."

Determined, Albus stepped into the compartment, leaving Rose, who had a doubtful look at her face, standing behind. The two boys who already sat inside looked up. One of them had very blonde hair, a sharp chin and was already in his Hogwarts robes. Albus remembered that Uncle Ron had mentioned him on the platform. Judging by the expression of his face, he was utterly terrified, as if it wasn't a first year, but a dementor who had just entered the compartment. The other boy was thinner and had shorter, dark blonde hair. He seemed slightly more relaxed than the light blonde boy, but also remained silent and looked up at Albus with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety.

"Er… Hi," began Albus awkwardly. "Do you mind if we sit with you?"

The thin boy smiled and shook his head no, while the light blonde boy was just trying to look as small as possible.

"Thanks," said Albus relieved, taking the lack of answer from the light blonde as a "no". "I'm Albus, by the way, Albus Potter. And this is my cousin Rose Weasley," he added, dragging Rose, who still seemed undecided, finally into the compartment.

"Hello," said the dark blonde boy. "My name is Quentin Simiol. Nice to meet you, Albus, Rose."

Relieved, that finally someone else than him had said something, Albus sat down, smiled and nodded. Rose, on the other hand, turned to the other boy.

"And you have to be Scorpius Malfoy," she stated. "Actually, my dad doesn't want me to be friends with you - "

"Rose! You don't even know him yet!" interrupted Albus angrily. Scorpius looked as if his worst fears had been confirmed.

"Well, I suppose you're right. Dad can say some pretty weird things sometimes" admitted Rose and sat down as well.

For a while, all remained silent. Rose, who was always very uncomfortable with such silence, tried to put up a conversation, asking "so, which houses do you think you'll be sorted in?"

Albus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This subject still gave him headaches, because he couldn't help recognizing how different he were from the rest of his family. When his brother, James, acted at once, Albus always paused, thinking. He didn't feel very brave, even though he surely wasn't a coward, and he certainly thought of himself and his own advantage first. All those traits resulted in his fear to be sorted into Slytherin.

"From my family, I'd say Slytherin, because my mother was there," said Quentin, pulling Albus out of his thoughts. "My father went to Beauxbatons, though. Personally, I feel I'm more of a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff."

"Why did your father go to Beauxbatons?" asked Albus.

"Because he is a Frenchman," said Quentin. "He went to Britain, since he became ambassador of the French ministry in London. There he also met my mother. What about you, Scorpius?"

"All - almost my whole family was in Slytherin" whispered Scorpius, speaking for the first time. "Everyone keeps saying, I could be the one to break the tradition, though. And they don't mean that in a positive way. Ravenclaw was my mother's house, so that wouldn't be too bad. But Gryffindor or Hufflepuff…" He shuddered and fell silent.

"Well, probably they can't hear it anymore, but as far as I know, Rose' and Albus' ancestors were exclusively in Gryffindor," pointed out Quentin, his eyes twinkling. Albus already liked him.

"Don't get me wrong, personally I'd have no problem with Gryffindor," said Scorpius. "My mother would also be alright with it, maybe even my father. But my grandfather…" Again he broke off, apparently embarrassed.

"Well, I'm absolutely sure I'll be in Gryffindor, just like my parents. And, for your information, Malfoy,  _they_  will be more than fine with it," snapped Rose, obviously personally offended, that Scorpius' grandfather was no fan of Gryffindor.

"In the end, I don't think we have much influence," said Quentin. "After all it's still the Sorting Hat who makes the decision."

Albus remembered what his father had told him on the platform. According to him the Sorting Hat did take the personal choice into account. He didn't say anything about it, though, and instead changed the subject.

"What does your father do as ambassador?" he asked Quentin.

"Most countries send an ambassador in other important states," said Quentin. "My father represents the French interests in Britain. I believe, he even met your father once, Albus, and sometimes he talks to your mother," he added towards Rose.

Albus' father was Head Auror and hunted Dark Wizards, whereas Hermione Weasley was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Her husband, Ron Weasley, also worked as Auror in the Ministry.

"What are your parents actually doing, Malfoy?" requested Rose. Quentin rolled his eyes.

"My father doesn't really have a regular job," Scorpius said, slightly taken aback. "We have enough money, and he doesn't want to be out in public so often. Sometimes he makes some potions for steady customers, though. My mother is an artist, she often does decoration or arranges music for parties and stuff."

Albus knew from his father's stories who Draco Malfoy was and what he had done, but his father had also told him, that Mr Malfoy hadn't been a death eater by his own choice and had changed completely after the war.

The conversation turned towards other subjects, and the train ride was quite pleasant. Albus got to know Quentin and Scorpius a little better, and he really liked both. Quentin was always friendly and a very pleasant conversational partner, even though he was relatively quiet and reserved. Scorpius, on the other hand, opened up considerably and talked a lot more than at the beginning, seemingly relieved, that Albus and Quentin were friendly to him. Rose still was somewhat nervous and snappish and soon hid behind a book on curses that her father had given her "in case Malfoy's boy played up".

Time elapsed quickly, and soon they put their Hogwarts robes on and left the train. They stood around somewhat lost for a few seconds, until there was a deep, loud voice calling "first years over here, first years to me!"

They looked around, and it didn't take long to determine, from where the voice came. The giant shape of Rubeus Hagrid was absolutely impossible to overlook.

"Hagrid!" shouted Rose and Albus simultaneously, and ran over to the huge man. "All right, you two?" asked Hagrid. "Yeah, fine" said Rose breathlessly.

"All first years here? Good, follow me," said Hagrid and led the way. There was silence between the new students while they followed Hagrid. Finally, they passed the last corner - and Hogwarts was in front of them, on the other side of a dark, black lake. A huge, majestic castle, impressive, but also slightly intimidating.

Albus, who had heard so much about Hogwarts, was still as overwhelmed as the others and held his breath.

Hagrid guided them into the boats, and they started to cross the black lake. Albus sat in a boat with Quentin, Scorpius and a fat, red-haired boy who introduced himself as Leon Strelka. Unlike Albus, Quentin and Scorpius, Strelka didn't seem too impressed by the sight of Hogwarts, which Albus found quite strange, as Strelka had proudly stated that he was muggle-born. However, he seemed to know everything about Albus' and Scorpius' families and their history.

"Tell me, Malfoy, how does it feel to be the son of Death Eater scum?" he asked mockingly. Scorpius, apparently used to such attacks, only frowned and said nothing.

"I'm surprised they actually let you attend Hogwarts, with a family like yours. I mean, ill weeds grow apace, don't they?" Strelka continued.

Albus, who got angrier from moment to moment, wanted to defend his new friend, but Quentin, who until now had been mesmerized by the sight of the castle, was faster.

"Be quiet, you idiot, it's not his fault what his ancestors did," he said.

"Oho, defending the little pure-blood prince, are we?" Strelka answered. "I think you need to be told a lesson…"

With this, he pushed Quentin with all his force out of the boat, shouting "Quentin! Stop attacking me… Hey, Hagrid, help!"

Albus was speechless of anger for a moment. Quentin was struggling to keep himself at the surface of the water, until a huge tentacle grabbed him and threw him back into the boat. Hagrid had already arrived with his boat and angrily asked: "What happened here?"

"Please, Sir, Quentin here suddenly tried to attack me, but lost his balance and fell into the water," Strelka said over the loud protests of Albus and Scorpius.

Hagrid only groweld and turned to Quentin, who was shivering because of the icy water in the lake. The half-giant took his tent-sized coat and flipped it over Quentin, who nodded gratefully.

"We're there!" shouted Hagrid. Everyone climbed of their boats and followed Hagrid into the castle. In the entrance hall, a tall, strong wizard awaited them. Albus recognized him immediately: It was Neville Longbottom, the Professor for Herbology and a good friend of his father.

"Thank you, Hagrid," he said, smiling. "He fell into the lake," said Hagrid, pointing at Quentin, who appeared relieved, that Hagrid took his heavy coat back. Professor Longbottom took out his wand murmured something. Suddenly, Quentin was not wet any more at all.

"Thank you, Sir," said Quentin. "You're welcome," said Professor Longbottom. "Welcome to Hogwarts! In a few minutes you will enjoy the great feast with your fellow students. Before that, however, you have to be sorted into your house. There are four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Your house will be your family at Hogwarts. With good achievements, you can get points for your house. If you break the rules, points will be deducted from your house. The house with the most points at the end of the term wins the prestigious House Cup. Now follow me into the Great Hall."

Professor Longbottom opened the portal and led the new students in a huge hall. Albus struggled to take everything in, especially the enchanted ceiling, which looked like the sky outside, was astonishing. Not wanting to look  _too_  impressed however, he gave his face a confident expression and looked forward, to the old hat, which Professor Longbottom just placed on a chair.

Immediately, the hat opened his mouth (or whatever it had to be called) and started to sing.

_"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_if you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folks use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!" *_

The hall burst into applause, but Albus still heard Rose hissing in her characteristic noisy whisper: "That was exactly the same song it sang for my parents in their first year, mum told me all about it."

"Well, you try to invent a new one every year, I suppose, it has to repeat itself sometimes," Albus breathed back.

"When I call your name, please sit down on the chair. I will place the Sorting Hat on your head, and it will call his decision loudly," said Professor Longbottom.

"Abbot, Albert!"

A plump, small boy stumbled forward and sat down on the chair. Professor Longbottom placed the Hat on his head, and after a second, the hat screamed "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The long house table with the Hufflepuffs applauded, as Albert Abbot joined them, looking relieved.

"Boot, Oby!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Burke, Belvina!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Carrow, Cissy!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Dindane, Aurora!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

While Aurora Dindane, who had a dark skin and long black hair, joined the cheering Slytherins, Albus was again struck by cold fear. What if he would indeed get sorted into Slytherin? He looked for James, who had to be sitting somewhere at the Gryffindor table, but couldn't find him.

In the meanwhile, "Finch-Fletchley, Rory" had been sent into Hufflepuff, whereas "Goldstein, Gabriel" became the second new Ravenclaw.

"Greengrass, Gergely!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Actually, the Slytherins didn't look that evil to Albus. Maybe his father was right, and there were good Slytherins as well. But still, what a shame it would be for Harry Potter's son to come into Voldemort's house…

The sorting proceeded; "Hartell, Serena", "Hepburn, Harold" and "Longbottom, Alice" (Albus knew her, because she was Professor Longbottom's daughter) were all sorted into Hufflepuff. Then…

"Malfoy, Scorpius!"

The hall went quiet, some students were whispering. Strelka snorted derogatory. Scorpius stepped forward and sat down on the chair. The hat had already opened his mouth, presumably to shout "Slytherin", but hastily closed it again. It seemed confused, and if it had a brow, Albus could swear it would have frowned. It didn't take very long however, until the hat shouted

"RAVENCLAW!"

Scorpius appeared immensely relieved, as he ran towards the Ravenclaw table, where there was only half-hearted clapping. Scorpius sat down at the very end of the table, as far from the other students, as he could.

Albus waved to him and smiled, while "Myers, Zacharias" and "Nott, Phobos" were sorted into Slytherin.

"Patil, Pamela!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Potter, Albus!"

Like in trance, Albus stepped forward, ignoring the humming in the hall. Professor Longbottom placed the hat on his head, and all went dark.

"Another Potter, huh?" a little voice in his mind said. "Yes, but you're quite different from your father and your brother…"

"Not Slytherin," Albus thought desperately. "Well, not  _that_  different, obviously," laughed the hat. "It's a close decision however. You have courage, but you're not that reckless and selfless, you are clever, but not a bookworm, you are faithful, but not so industrious and you are cunning, but not really cold and calculating. Hmm, so where to put you?"

"Not Slytherin," Albus repeated.

"No, you're right. In the end I think, it all comes down to…"

"RAVENCLAW!"

At first, Albus didn't realise, that the hat had shouted the last word loudly into the hall. As Professor Longbottom took the hat from him, appearing slightly surprised, Albus hastily got up and went to the Ravenclaw table, which was erupting with applause and cheering. Albus smiled and sat down next to Scorpius, after greeting some particularly enthusiastic Ravenclaws.

After all, he thought, it was an acceptable, albeit unexpected result. He had always felt unsure between Gryffindor and Slytherin, not even thinking of the other two houses. But still, he was quite proud that the hat had judged his intelligence so highly to put him into Ravenclaw. While "Selwyn, Sebastian" was sorted into Slytherin, Albus looked over at the Gryffindor table and finally caught his brother's eye. James looked utterly flabbergasted, and Albus smiled slightly and waved at him, with thumbs up. To cover up is bewilderment, James hastily congratulated "Shafiq, Shawna" who had just become the next new Gryffindor.

"Simiol, Quentin!"

Quickly Albus looked forward again and watched Quentin sitting down nervously on the chair. The hat really took his time with Quentin. Minutes passed, and the hat remained silent. Albus hoped that Quentin would also come into Ravenclaw, and waited impatiently for the decision.

After a long, long pause, the hat finally screamed

"RAVENCLAW!"

Quentin seemed immensely relieved and ran down to sit next to Albus, who clapped him happily on his back. "It just couldn't decide between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff," he whispered. "In the end, I just told it I'd be happier with Ravenclaw, and it listened!"

"Smith, Christina!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Steele, Jermaine!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Strelka, Leon!"

"Please not Ravenclaw," Albus murmured. "No fear," said Scorpius. "He'll be a Slytherin for sure."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"A pity they stopped teaching divination after McGonagall became Headmistress," joked Albus. "You'd have been a real ace!"

"Weasley, Rose!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

The whole hall seemed to freeze. No one moved. Albus couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Rose kept sitting on the chair, as if the hat had not sorted her into a house, but petrified her. Professor Longbottom also seemed too shocked to do anything but stare incredulously. Eventually, he reluctantly took the hat from Rose' head and whispered something into her ear. She shook his head quickly, then nodded and moved towards the Slytherin table, which was also frozen in shock. Phobos Nott suddenly began to clap, and the rest of the table followed his example.

Finally, the last student was called.

"Whitaker, Adnan!"

A small boy with short, black hair quickly stepped forward.

"RAVENCLAW!"

Albus clapped with the other Ravenclaws and greeted Adnan Whitaker, who seemed, judging by his lack of reaction, when Albus told him his name, to be muggle-born.

"Attention, please," called Professor Longbottom. Turning forward again, Albus saw the legendary Minerva McGonagall getting up from her chair.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," she said with her brisk, resolute voice.

"Firstly, I want to introduce the Heads of the four houses to our first-years. The Gryffindor Head of House is Professor Neville Longbottom, who teaches Herbology," Professor McGonagall said, pointing at him. "Ravenclaw is taken by Professor Filius Flitwick, who teaches Charms; Hufflepuff Head of House is Reannon Botwright, our Muggle Studies Professor. Finally, Slytherin Head of House is our new Potions Master Philandros Pyrites."

Albus looked at the four teachers, who had all reacted differently to their introduction. Professor Longbottom had smiled awkwardly and waved; the tiny Professor Flitwick had gotten up from his especially high chair and fell under the table, so that in the end no one could really see him. Professor Botwright was a short, plump, friendly looking witch, whereas Professor Pyrites was the polar opposite, very tall and thin. He beamed, when his name was called, and waved happily at the students.

"Furthermore," Professor McGonagall continued, "I want you all to remember that the Forbidden Forest is obviously strictly forbidden for any student. And Mr Filch, the caretaker, asked me to point out once more that magic in the corridors is also strictly forbidden. Now I wish you an interesting term - let the feast begin!"

With these words, suddenly huge amounts of food appeared at the tables. The older students at once helped themselves to steak, potatoes, pasties, pudding or pumpkin juice. The first years took a moment to recover, then they also joined the delicious meal.

"Cool," said Adnan, when he saw that empty bowls just refilled, "there are advantages to be a wizard, aren't they? My parents are not magical, so this is all entirely new to me. For you everything is probably normal, though?" he asked.

"Believe me," said Albus, "a feast like this isn't normal at all, even for wizards."

"But the sorting was surprising, wasn't it?" said Gabriel Goldstein. "I mean, a Potter and a Malfoy, united in Ravenclaw, who would have thought that? But remember, Albus, my father fought alongside yours in the war, so if he"- he nodded towards Scorpius - "makes you problems, I'll be on your side, okay?"

"Scorpius is my friend," answered Albus coolly. Many looked up, surprised. Even Scorpius, who had blushed, seemed slightly startled at this open statement. Obviously he had not expected that Albus really saw him as friend. Only Pamela Patil, obviously entirely oblivious that Albus had been serious, threw her head theatrically back and laughed heartily. Only when Belvina Burke elbowed her, she recognized that no one else laughed, and abruptly stopped laughing, as if someone had turned off the sound. "Oh," said Gabriel most surprised. "Oh. Okay."

"Guys, do you mind filling me in what this is all about?" asked Adnan, who seemed completely clueless what was going on.

"Albus' and Scorpius' fathers were enemies in their youth. Now they get along well enough, though, and it doesn't make any sense anyway to blame Scorpius for what his parents have done or not done," said Quentin, glaring at Gabriel and Pamela, who blushed and nodded hastily.

During the feast, the conversation turned to other subjects, and everyone was friendly or at least neutral towards Scorpius and overly friendly and effusively towards Albus. He was slightly irritated by this, but when he glimpsed Rose at the Slytherin table, he decided that things could be a lot worse.

When the feast was finished, the new Ravenclaws were led to their common room by the prefects. When they arrived at the door that apparently was the entrance of the common room, a prefect knocked with a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle.

"What comes always, but never arrives?" the eagle knocker asked.

"To get into the common room, you have to answer a question. This way you learn something, which is only appropriate for us Ravenclaws, isn't it?" said the Prefect. "What do you think?"

"Tomorrow, of course," said Scorpius at once, as if the knocker had just inquired which day it was. Everybody looked at him, astonished.

"That's right," said the eagle knocker and opened the door. They stepped inside.

The view was absolutely breath-taking. They stood in a wide, airy room with mountain views, bookcases and a domed ceiling painted with stars. In fact, it was the airiest room Albus had ever seen. Still he immediately felt very much at home. Quentin and Scorpius also seemed to feel very comfortable.

The prefect showed them their dormitories and wished them a good night. Tired from the eventful day and the rich feast, Albus and Quentin went to bed at once, to be fit for tomorrow's classes. Scorpius, who for some reason didn't seem tired at all, stayed in the common room to explore everything more closely.

Before he fell asleep, Albus tried to sort his thoughts about the day. He had been sorted into Ravenclaw, which he would never even dreamt of. To his own surprise, he felt very comfortable with his new house. Of course, he had originally hoped for Gryffindor, but… Maybe it wasn't a bad thing to be in a different house than his brother. This way he wouldn't be compared with his father all the time, could make his own name. He felt sorry for Rose though, who had been so sure to be a Gryffindor. He imagined the reaction of Uncle Ron, who hated Slytherin… Albus thought that the Sorting Hat seemed to be very fond of complicated or surprising turnarounds, before he finally fell asleep.

* Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, p.88

 


	2. Worrying developments

"The mission is complete, Ragnuk. Audrey Weasley, Percy Weasley's wife, is dead. It was easier than expected. We opened the door with our special picklock and stabbed her, while she was sleeping. No one saw us."

"Excellent, Gorniak," said Ragnuk, who was a very fat goblin sitting in an armchair. "The wife of the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. That will give them a nasty little shock."

"She was already our seventh victim," said the goblin called Gorniak. "Are we going to tell them we did it, before they guess it themselves? The Ministry is slowly becoming suspicious. Our spies at the Goblin Liaison Office told me that, at least."

"Exactly. They're  _guessing_ ," answered Ragnuk. "For all they know, it could also be someone totally different. Bearing in mind the tensions between wizards and goblins in the past, they will hardly accuse us openly before they have proofs."

"But then, what's the point of everything in the end? I mean, killing wizards is fun, but weren't we striving for more…?" asked Gorniak.

"Oh, don't worry. We will confess the assaults, after all. But when we do that, it has to be with a bigger effect. We need to have Potter over a barrel", cackled Ragnuk. "Macmillan, that coward of a Minister, would do everything to please him."

"Potter?" said Gorniak surprised. "You want to kill him, too? Sure, that would be a shock, but that won't be easy at all, and besides, can't we be grateful to him for what he did as well?"

"I don't want to kill him, you fool, I want to take one of his children has hostage, to control him," spat Ragnuk. "His younger son is now in his first year at Hogwarts; surely our agents there can lure him into a trap."

"You know, of course, that the Gringotts goblins and the smiths are not going to follow us, if we just capture Harry Potter's son without a concrete reason?" asked Gorniak doubtfully.

Ragnak smiled cruelly. "Oh, don't worry about that. The Ministry can't afford much longer to not react to our assaults. We'll give them a confidential hint, and they will give us a concrete reason soon enough…"

O

When Albus woke up the next morning, he immediately felt nervous and excited. He couldn't await his first classes. Looking around, he saw that Quentin wasn't lying in his bed, so he had probably already gotten up. Scorpius and Adnan were still sleeping. Quietly, Albus got dressed and went into the common room, where he found Quentin sitting at a table and writing a letter. Albus approached him.

"Good morning," Quentin said, smiling, when he saw Albus. "Morning," yawned Albus.

"Let's get down for breakfast, so we can still pay the Owlery a visit before classes," said Quentin. "Our parents surely want to know which house we're in. Although - my father probably doesn't really care," he added.

Albus quickly agreed, and they tried to find the way back to the Great Hall. Luckily, another Ravenclaw passed, and they could follow him; otherwise it would have been not easy at all to find the way back to the Great Hall.

At the Ravenclaw table, Professor Flitwick was distributing the timetables to the students.

"We're starting with Transfiguration today, then double Potions, double Charms and Defence against the Dark Arts," said Albus. "Sounds cool!"

"I'm especially looking forward to Potions," said Scorpius, who had just joined them. "Sometimes I helped my father brewing potions for friends, and it's really fun."

"There's Rose!" Albus cried suddenly and rushed over to the Slytherin table. "Rosie! How are you? I'm so sorry you were sorted to Slytherin! What happened?"

Some of the Slytherins glared at Albus angrily. "Be quiet, you idiot," hissed Rose and whispered: "It's alright, they aren't that bad. The Sorting Hat is completely crazy, though. It said something about me being more cunning than keen, more cold than courageous!" She threw Albus an annoyed look, as if it had been him who had declared that Rose was never ever a Gryffindor and definitely a Slytherin.

"Maybe it even has a point with that," thought Albus, but he didn't dare speaking it out loudly. Instead, he wished Rose a good day and returned to the Ravenclaw table, where Quentin and Scorpius were just getting up from breakfast.

"So, let's go to the Owlery before Transfiguration," suggested Scorpius and led the way. "My father told me where it is, approximately," he added.

Albus quickly took out a piece of parchment and a feather, and wrote his parents that he had settled in quite well and had been sorted into Ravenclaw, where it was nice. Then he followed Scorpius and Quentin to the Owlery, where they met none other than Leon Strelka, who was accompanied by Zacharias Myers and Aurora Dindane.

"Now, look at that, our pure-blood princes," said Strelka mockingly.

"How does it feel, Strelka, to be the only muggle-born in Slytherin?" asked Albus.

"The only? Not at all, Potter, Aurora here also descends from muggles, you know. But I'm not talking to  _you_  anyway. Actually I wanted a word with Simiol, because of yesterday's - ah,  _accident_ ," said Strelka.

"That wasn't an accident," said Quentin. "You punched me, very deliberately. Without a reason."

"You better watch your back, Simiol," snarled Strelka. "I'm not done with you yet." With this, he waddled away. Myers and Dindane eyed Quentin for a while, then they followed Strelka.

"I don't understand that," said Quentin sadly, while he bound his letter at the leg of a school owl. "What have I done to him, that he hates me that much?"

"He's just an idiot," said Albus, watching his own owl, Eileen, fly away with his letter. "We'd better head back, or we'll be late for Transfiguration."

Quentin and Scorpius nodded, and together they went down a moving staircase. Soon, they met Adnan, Gabriel, Pamela and Belvina, who were also on their way to the Transfiguration classroom.

Five minutes later, they were sitting inside the classroom with the Slytherins and waiting for their teacher, Professor Arrington, who was nowhere to be seen.

But, strangely enough, a big American eagle was sitting on the teacher's desk. Scorpius smiled knowingly, but said nothing. Suddenly, the eagle jumped off the desk and transformed, and in front of them stood a rigorous-looking man.

"Welcome to Transfiguration," he said with a metallic voice. "I am Aaron Arrington, one of the world's leading experts on Transfiguration, and, as you have just witnessed, I am also an Animagus. By the way, can anyone define, what an Animagus is?"

Albus raised his hand, among some others.

Professor Arrington pointed towards him. "Mr Potter?"

"An Animagus is a wizard, who can turn into an animal," said Albus confidently.

"No, not really," said Professor Arrington.

Surprised, Albus leaned back.

"Anyone else?"

Hesitantly, Phobos Nott raised his hand. "Yes, Mr Nott," said Professor Arrington.

"Every Animagus can turn into exactly one animal," said Nott.

"That's what Potter meant, but it's not quite correct," answered Professor Arrington.

A short silence followed. Suddenly, Quentin's arm shot upwards.

"Mr Simiol?"

"An Animagus is a witch or wizard who can morph him or herself into an animal  _at will_ ," said Quentin.

"That's it. Think of werewolves, who also turn into an animal, but not voluntarily," said Professor Arrington. "You will learn more about that in your third year. Five points to Ravenclaw," he added.

"Now, after this quite lengthy introduction, to Transfiguration in general. Transfiguration is definitely the most difficult kind of magic you will learn at school. You need really much theory, concentration, practice and also some serious magical power for it. If you have all this, however, Transfiguration will be a really powerful tool for you, in nearly every aspect of daily life or in your later profession."

Albus stared at Professor Arrington, mesmerized. This man really had the ability to fascinate the whole class with his subject; everyone was dead silent.

"So, how do you transform objects?" Professor Arrington continued. "Firstly, you have to note that for successful Transfiguration you have to move your wand firmly and sparingly. Those of you, who like to wave their wand around spectacularly, will be struggling in this classroom. You can do that in Charms, not here. Secondly, there are several parameters that influence, how successful your transformation will be."

He flicked his wand, and a formula appeared on the blackboard:

t=(w*c)/(a*v) * Z

"The 't' stands for the power of your transformation. It is directly influenced by bodyweight (a), viciousness (v), wand power (w), concentration (c) and a fifth, unknown variable (Z). Obviously, the heavier the object you intend to transform is, the more difficult it will be. Please note, that not size, but weight is decisive. Furthermore, some of your wands are better suited for Transfiguration than others. Still, everyone can achieve considerable success if he doesn't lack the appropriate concentration, which is also a very important factor in this formula. Finally, you of course have to be as flawless as possible regarding your precision of the wand movement, your technique and knowledge about theory. That's what the 'v' stands for."

Albus looked around. So far he had only just understood everything, but he found it really exhausting to follow. Professor Arrington talked in a very formal and quite fast way. Albus saw that some students had even more problems to understand Professor Arringtons no-nonsense lecture.

"All this has been found out by magical theorists over the last centuries. Still, measurements and experiments show us clearly that there is a fifth variable, which is unfortunately still unknown. Many great Transfiguration masters all over the world desperately try to find out what the 'Z' stands for. I delved deeply into this subject myself and am currently doing a lot of research to find the answer. However, even wizards like Dumbledore have failed to find the last variable, so there can be no guarantee at all that it will actually be found in our whole lifetime."

Albus was absolutely thrilled by this, and suddenly felt the burning ambition to be the one to find the 'Z'. Most of his classmates seemed less enthusiastically and tried to keep the pace with taking notes, but now Professor Arrington said:

"Knowing all this, you should be able to transform matchsticks into needles in the last ten minutes of the lesson. The first to do it will receive 20 points to his or her house. The spell is 'acus verto'. You find the wand movement described in your book, it's very simple, just point at the match. Now start."

At once, the students' initial excitement returned, and soon "acus verto" could be heard everywhere in the room. Albus closed his eyes, breathed deeply and pointed his wand at the match in front of him.

" _Acus verto!_ "

He knew immediately that it had worked. A rush of energy flowed through his arm and out of his wand; the match vibrated slightly and turned into a perfect, pointed silver needle. Quentin next to him gasped, astonished.

"That was fast, Mr Potter," said a brisk voice. Professor Arrington was standing in front of him. "Well done. Twenty points to Ravenclaw."

Loudly, Professor Arrington called: "Everyone except Mr Potter will practice this as homework and furthermore write an essay about how you finally did it and why you failed before. Class dismissed."

When Albus left the classroom, he felt the blood rush in his veins. It wasn't that he liked Transfiguration: He  _loved_  it.

His classmates, however, mostly didn't seem to share this feeling, because Albus heard many of them complaining about Professor Arringtons high expectations and about the homework.

"That was seriously impressive, Albus," said Quentin next to him, while they were heading towards the dungeons for their first Potions lesson. "How did you do that? You managed it at your very first try! No one else could make a needle!"

"I don't know," responded Albus. "I just concentrated and - transformed it. It just flowed out of me. You'll manage it soon enough as well, I'm sure."

"For my taste, the lesson was just way too theoretical," chimed in Scorpius. "I'm glad we have Potions now. There we'll hopefully do something more  _practical_."

When they entered the Potions classroom in the dungeons, Professor Pyrites was already waiting, beaming at them. He was a very tall, very thin and relatively young man, who looked as if he had just been bathed freshly.

"Welcome to Potions," he greeted them merrily. "My name is Philandros Pyrites, and I'm sure we'll have lots of fun together, won't we?" he said, glancing around, as if he was anxious that someone could jump up and shout 'no'.

"You are coming straight from Transfiguration, is this correct?" Professor Pyrites continued. "Ah, well, I know that Aaron's lessons can be quite exhausting sometimes. So, for relaxation we are going to do something  _fun_  today. And, mind you, we'll be doing it slowly. It takes its time to brew potions. You can't be in a hurry there!" he said and looked at several students, as if they had just declared to be of course in quite a hurry.

"Any questions, before we start? No? Excellent! Then let's brew the so-called 'relaxing solution' today," Professor Pyrites continued, speaking rapidly, which didn't quite fit his former admonition to act slowly. "Just look in your books, page five, and you'll find everything you need. Indeed! Ingredients are in this cupboard here. You can do the potion alone, or team up with a classmate. And remember, take your time! Now, jump off, let me see what you are brewing for me!" he said vigorous.

Albus, who found Professor Pyrites agitated speech slightly annoying, caught Quentin's eye. His friend nodded, and together they prepared a cauldron, lit a fire under it and started reading the instructions in the book. Scorpius, who had decided to work alone, was already throwing the first ingredients in his cauldron, looking very much at peace with himself, almost in trance. Professor Pyrites ran around, gleefully, and offered advice to everyone who needed it and also to everyone who didn't need it.

Scorpius didn't seem to notice, when Professor Pyrites arrived at his cauldron and asked Scorpius if he needed help. Professor Pyrites glanced inside the cauldron, and looked impressed for the first time. He quickly proceeded towards Albus and Quentin, who was just saying: "I mean, it isn't exactly difficult, if you just follow the instructions closely, but on the other hand it feels somewhat stupid, doesn't it?"

Professor Pyrites had heard him. He didn't look angry though; on the contrary: He beamed at Quentin. "Quite right, young man!" he said. "At the moment you aren't doing much more than obeying to a book, are you? But don't be impatient," he said, waggling a finger annoyingly at Quentin, "we will do more difficult work soon enough. Indeed! Actually, I'm going to separate the class; those, who have more difficulties with Potions, will continue following the recipes. But those who manage that quite easily, I will teach  _why_  they are doing so. Why do you put in this ingredient, why that, why do you stir clockwise, why counter clockwise, why, why, why! Sounds good, doesn't it?"

Albus' mind was spinning, and Quentin seemed to feel similarly, as he just nodded numbly and looked at the book again, waiting for Professor Pyrites to rush towards the next table, where Rose was his 'victim'.

"Thank God we're not in Slytherin," murmured Albus. "Imagine, this guy would be our Head of House. That would be exhausting…"

At the end of the lesson everybody tried out his own solution and felt more or less relaxed. Somewhat reluctantly Albus and Quentin took the antidote, because Professor Pyrites insisted: "We don't want Filius to be angry with me, do we? So, boys, be so nice and drink that." Scorpius, in fact, was so relaxed, that he fell asleep and had to be woken up to take his antidote.

"That was a cool lesson!" he said enthusiastically, when they went outside in the pause before Charms.

"I found it really stupid," said Quentin. "We didn't do any theory, so we were basically mixing something without any clue what we were doing."

Charms was much more to Quentin's liking. Firstly, Professor Flitwick explained some general aspects about Charms.

"You have to keep in mind that unlike in Transfiguration, you have to bring some creativity here. In Charms, absolute accuracy is not so important. There is of course quite a lot to learn, as every charm has its own spell, but it's more like creating something, not transforming it."

Then everyone had to light the top of his wand, saying " _Lumos_ ". It didn't work for everybody. While Quentin had no difficulties at all, Albus' light wasn't nicely yellow, but scarlet. Professor Flitwick, who went around to correct the wand movements and offered help to everyone, told Albus that he had put way too much willpower in his spell.

"Spellcasting components are a breakdown of what is needed to perform a spell. They are incantation and pronunciation, wand movement, willpower, and concentration," explained Professor Flitwick. "In general, the more difficult the spell is, the more willpower and concentration you will need."

After a lot of more theoretical instruction, in the end of the lesson those, who had already successfully done the wand-lighting charm, were allowed to try to make objects fly. Albus concentrated, swished and flicked his wand and said: " _Wingardium Leviosa!_ " The feather on his desk didn't start to fly, however, but was blasted away with a bang.

"That was too bold, Mr Potter," said Professor Flitwick, who had fallen from his book pile. "As I said, you have to be a little bit more creative, do it with more feeling. Charms demand much less willpower than transformations. You need a completely different kind of concentration here. Mr Simiol, please show me what you can do."

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ " said Quentin and swished and flicked his wand at the feather, which obediently levitated in the air.

"That was excellent! Ten points to Ravenclaw," squeaked Professor Flitwick. Strelka was glaring over at them angrily. "Nice work, Mr Simiol. You can help Mr Potter now, otherwise he'll blow up the whole classroom, judging by his determination," Professor Flitwick added towards Quentin.

"Don't concentrate upon the picture of the flying feather, Albus," Quentin whispered. "You have to concentrate at the  _process_  to make it fly. And don't be too forceful, you have to do it a little bit more relaxed," he advised.

"Maybe you should have tried it out with the relaxing solution, Albus," joked Scorpius, whose feather was hovering a little in the air, before sailing down at his desk again.

Some tries and feathers later, Albus had the knack of it and successfully levitated his feather. Only a few students had completed the task, and Albus was very relieved not to belong to the rest, who had to practice the spell as homework.

"One more lesson," said Albus, looking at his timetable. "Defence Against the Dark Arts - I'm really looking forward to it, my dad always says that DADA is the most important subject."

"Well, of course  _Harry Potter_  would say that," said Scorpius, rolling his eyes. "But have you heard - Tyron Smethwyck will be our teacher. He used to be a famous Auror, before taking the teaching post at Hogwarts."

Albus had indeed heard about Tyron Smethwyck from his father. According to him, Smethwyck was one of the most powerful duelists on earth.

Professor Smethwyck turned out to be an intimidating, square-shouldered man with huge eyebrows. He didn't allow the students to do magic in his lesson, but told them in a bored voice about the Dark Arts.

"Remember: Once the Dark Arts have a hold on you, they never let you go; once you cast your first Dark spell, they will continue to corrupt you. So take my advice: Don't dabble in the Dark Arts," he said gruffly.

"The problem with the Dark Arts is, that they are like a virus: If you find a way to defeat it, it will learn new tricks to avoid this. Thus, the Darks Arts can never be completely extinguished. The only thing we can do is fighting them, continuously, and hold back all Dark forces. For this reason, you are here."

He assigned them a mass of homework and let them leave early.

Albus was somewhat disappointed by this, but James had talked about a lot of practical DADA lessons in the summer holidays, so Albus still looked forward to the coming lessons.

After dinner, Albus, Quentin and Scorpius returned the Ravenclaw common room and started with their homework. Helping each other, they finished rather quickly and chatted excitedly about the several subjects and tomorrow's flying lesson, before they went to bed.

O

Many miles away the Ministry of Magic was in an uproar. The Minister, Ernie Macmillan, reported to Harry and other high-ranked Ministry-Officials in a crisis meeting.

"Susan Bones is dead," he began. "She was murdered when she was at Gringotts, to take gold from her vault. A goblin called Dudek stabbed her to death, with a knife. It was the very same knife that was used to kill Audrey Weasley and all the other victims of the last weeks. We have to assume that the goblins are responsible for those kills. Susan was an old friend of mine," he added.

"You know, of course, that there has to be an immediate reaction!" shouted Percy Weasley, the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Audrey's husband. "We have to take Gringotts under control. Otherwise, the enemy is controlling our whole economy."

"I have to agree with Percy," said Ernie. "The other Gringotts goblins did not distance themselves from Dudek clearly; we have to take Gringotts."

He looked at Harry. "Harry, I must ask you to mobilize the Aurors. Davies, please release a press declaration. Cresswell, please inform the goblins about our decision," he added towards Donald Cresswell, the Head of the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Harry wasn't happy about that at all, and seemingly, Hermione wasn't either.

"You realize, of course, that the goblins won't take it very well if we wrest Gringotts from them by force? That could provoke a massive conflict, maybe even a war. Besides, you have to ask yourself why they suddenly committed a murder in the public. Possibly, provoking us to such a reaction is exactly what they want," she said.

"The goblins aren't in the position to displease us anymore," answered Ernie. "The whole wizarding community is outraged, and the goblin fighters are no match to our Aurors. They will have to accept our decision. I will offer them a financial compensation, though, and hold out the prospect of them taking back Gringotts when they clarify exactly who is behind the murders."

"That's madness," shouted Harry. "You know the goblins, Ernie, they won't care about financial compensations or anything like that. For them, their dignity stands above all. They will never forgive us that. It could destroy the trust between wizards and goblins for a very long time."

"Nonsense," snarled Percy. "We aren't declaring war on them, we're just exerting political pressure. The public expects a reaction of us. Otherwise the assaults won't stop."

"That's decided, then," said Ernie. "I'm sorry, Harry. We'll certainly maintain diplomatic contacts with them."

Harry shook his head, but said nothing. He had a very bad feeling with this.

 


	3. The Anti-Wizard-Alliance

"Everything worked just as you predicted it, Ragnuk," reported Gorniak. "One of our Gringotts members, Dudek, killed Susan Bones and allowed the wizards to capture him. The AWA-members we installed in high positions at Gringotts have prevented everyone else from apologizing publicly, just in case. Macmillan reacted with the announcement to take Gringotts under control."

"Excellent! Let them do it! Now we just have to wait. No further assaults, we aren't ready for an open conflict, not before all Gringotts goblins and smiths are behind us. But that won't take long. Soon our AWA, our Anti-Wizard-Alliance, will be an unstoppable force!" said Ragnuk, who was just enjoying raw meat with roots. "I will contact Urguk for the Gringotts goblins, he will certainly join us after this affront. Golod, the chief smith, won't be that easy to convince, because he is dealing with wizards and earning much gold with it. We will have to bribe him…"

"Bribe him? But where do you want to get the money from?" asked Gorniak.

Ragnuk laughed cruelly. "Where do you want to get the money from?" he repeated disbelievingly. "Before Dudek killed Susan Bones, I had him emptying Hermione Weasley's vault. She has been annoyingly deescalating so far, so we needed to turn her against us."

O

Albus was in a very good mood. He had received a letter from his parents, who were both very proud that he had been sorted into Ravenclaw. Furthermore, they wanted to know all about his first classes and reminded him that Hagrid had invited him for tea.

Scorpius was very happy about his letter from home as well. His parents both expressed how proud they were about him being a Ravenclaw. Specifically his father, whose reaction Scorpius had been unsure about, stated that he couldn't imagine a better house for his son. Quentin, on the other hand, hadn't gotten a response at all.

The flying lesson was far less exciting than Albus had expected. They were only allowed to hover a little over the ground, which was of course ridiculous for Albus, who had already been playing Quidditch with his brother for years. Scorpius seemed similarly bored, while Quentin had no problems to stay on his broom, but was highly concentrated and somewhat cramped.

Albus was surprised, however, how well the muggle-borns were doing. Adnan Whitaker sat on his broom as if he had done nothing else but flying in his whole childhood, and Leon Strelka was surprisingly agile in the air for someone that fat. It seemed to Albus, that talent was much more important for flying than experience.

The other lessons were more interesting for Albus. Muggle Studies, which was mandatory for all students since the Second Wizarding War, was taught by the Hufflepuff Head of House, Professor Botwright. It was absolutely impossible not to like her, and the things she told them about muggles were curious enough.

Herbology he found less fun, because he didn't really like to grapple with plants. On the other hand, Professor Longbottom was always nice to talk to. Quentin felt similarly, whereas Scorpius loved the subject and soon became Professor Longbottom's favourite student.

In Defence Against the Dark Arts they learned the Disarming Spell, " _Expelliarmus_ ", which Albus immediately could perform without difficulties. Apart from that, however, the DADA lessons were still comparatively boring, as they were only talking about creatures like Doxies or Gnomes. When he asked Professor Smethwyck when they would start to learn duelling, Smethwyck only growled at him to wait for the next year.

Albus' favourite subject by far was still Transfiguration. Thrilled, he listened to Professor Arringtons explanations.

"Modern Transfiguration can be divided into four branches: Transformation, Vanishment, Conjuration and Untransfiguration, in ascending order of difficulty. Transformation is the most common among those. That's also what you'll do this year. It is a form that causes things to actually change from their original state into another or alters the form of them. Transformation has some sub-branches, for example Switching or Human Transfiguration. You'll learn more about that later. Vanishment, obviously, is the art of causing objects to vanish. It's moderately difficult, and certainly much easier than Conjuration. Conjured items are formed by pulling together particles to create the object we desire, essentially opposite to the way in which items are vanished. You won't be able to do that before NEWT-level. Finally, Untransfiguration is by far the most difficult branch of Transfiguration. It has not yet been entirely explored and has still some mysterious aspects. With Untransfiguration you intend to undo previous transformations. Maybe the most gifted among you will learn more about that in your seventh year."

After this, they tried to transform forks to quills. Albus concentrated deeply and imagined the quill, so he could clearly see it in his mind.

" _Calamo verto!"_  he said forcefully, and again he succeeded at the first try. Professor Arrington seemed genuinely impressed by this, as none else was able to complete the task. Quentin's feather had four tips instead of one, while Scorpius' was metallic and silver. Others completely failed to change the form of their forks at all.

Having to practice much less than his classmates, Albus had more free time, which he used, being a true Ravenclaw, to do some additional reading. He went in the library and borrowed some simple books on Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts. While his classmates finished their regular homework, Albus was practising more difficult transformations and tried out a few handy jinxes and easy curses, like " _Rictusempra_ ", " _Locomotor Mortis_ " or " _Petrificus Totalus_ ". Sometimes Quentin joined him, whereas Scorpius usually needed a little more time for his essays.

Soon it became clear to Albus that Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts were his strong suits. He was also quite good at Potions, Herbology and Muggle Studies, even though he wasn't that excited about those. Only in Charms he was sometimes struggling a bit, and History of Magic with the indestructible Professor Binns just bored him to death.

Quentin's skills were much more balanced, he did well in pretty much every subject, although he didn't really like Potions and Herbology. On the other hand, he had a special affinity for Charms. Scorpius loved Potions and Herbology above all, but had serious problems with Transfiguration.

Sometimes, Albus paid the Gryffindor table a visit to see his brother and his cousins Freddie, Roxanne, Louis, Dominique, Molly and Lucy. While he liked the most of them, he had never gotten along with Uncle Percy's daughters, Molly and Lucy. Molly was in her sixth year and still struggled to do simple spells, whereas Lucy, a fourth-year, was the polar opposite and frequently had magical outbursts. Both were mentally more instable than ever, after her mother had died, and Albus avoided their company.

He also got along surprisingly well with the Slytherins. He regularly met Rose und got to know her friends, Phobos Nott and Sebastian Selwyn, who both seemed to be quite nice. Phobos even told him that Leon Strelka was obsessed with the thought to attack him, Quentin and Scorpius, and practised duelling like a dog with Zacharias Myers and Aurora Dindane, his friends.

"Don't expect me to help you, I can't act openly against my own housemates, or I'm their next target," Phobos said. "Be careful, though. I may not be able to warn you in time, so you'd better be prepared. They got really good, Strelka already knows curses that aren't taught until the OWLs."

Albus thanked Phobos and told himself to talk to Quentin and Scorpius about that at the earliest opportunity.

Every Friday afternoon, Albus, Quentin, Scorpius and Rose visited Hagrid. Scorpius had been unsure if he should accompany them, because apparently his father had advised him to stay away from Hagrid. In the end, Albus and Quentin could convince him otherwise, and Hagrid didn't seem to mind at all that Draco Malfoy's son visited him.

"I'd like ter see how your fathers will react when they find out that you two are friends. S'posse they wouldn' mind, nowadays. Don' get me wrong, Scorpius, but your father used ter be quite a piece of work, back in the days," he chuckled.

"An' you ended up in Slytherin, Rose. Don' worry about that. Look at Snape, for example, a great man, after all, and a Slytherin."

Albus, who had heard the same sentence many times from his father, rolled his eyes. Quentin smirked, but Hagrid didn't notice.

When they returned from Hagrid's hut towards the castle, it was already getting dark. Suddenly, a terribly familiar voice said: "Well, well, the pure-blood princes." Leon Strelka was blocking their way, flanked by Zacharias Myers and Aurora Dindane.

"Shit," murmured Albus and whispered to Quentin: "Run to the castle and get a teacher."

Quentin nodded and sprinted past Dindane towards the castle. "Not so fast," laughed Strelka. " _Locomotor Mortis!_ "

Quentin saved himself with a dive behind a tree, and the curse missed him. Albus and Scorpius also drew their wands, and the air was filled with colourful flashes.

" _Expelliarmus_ ," cried Albus, aiming at Strelka.

" _Protego,_ " shouted Strelka.

Albus was shocked. He had considered 'Protego', the shield charm, to be much too difficult for a first-year. His disarming charm rebounded from Strelka's shield and instead hit Scorpius, who was caught completely off-guard. Quentin took revenge with a well-aimed disarming charm at Myers, whose wand flew through the air just like Scorpius' before and landed in the grass. Clenching his fists, Myers stormed towards Quentin like a madman, but Albus took the chance and hit him with a body-bind curse. Turning around, he saw that Dindane had done just the same with Scorpius.

" _Locomotor Mortis_ ," he cried, aiming at her. The jinx hit Dindane with full force; her legs clapped together and she fell to the ground.

"STOP!" thundered a deep, angry voice. Albus, Quentin and Strelka, who were still standing, turned around in unison. Hagrid trudged towards them. "You again," he bellowed at Strelka. "Quentin attacked you yet again, I s'ppose?"

"Not quite, Professor," said Strelka. "Myers, Dindane and I were going for a walk, when Potter suddenly spotted us and blocked us our way. He and his accomplices then started to curse us. We only defended ourselves."

"It was just the other way round," cried Albus, boiling with anger.

"Enough," said Hagrid. "You will now apologize ter each other. If I see something like this once again, we will go to the Headmistress. Now shake hands."

Disgusted, Albus took Strelka's fat hand. Both let go very quickly.

" _Finite_ ," said Albus, freeing Scorpius, while Strelka was doing the same with Myers and Dindane. When they turned around to finally head back to the castle, Albus for a second saw a pair of yellow, slanted eyes in the shrubs near the greenhouses. When he looked there again, the eyes had vanished.

O

Harry was sitting in his office and leaned back, relieved. The goblins had accepted their decision to take Gringotts under control surprisingly calmly. There had been no incidents at the official takeover, supervised by the Aurors.

To give them the chance to keep their face, Ernie had negotiated with the goblins about the height of the compensation. Besides, he had called the takeover an "only temporary security measure, until the murders of the past few months are solved."

Of course, the goblins had criticised the Ministry's decision sharply and threatened with economic sanctions.

But, apart from that, everything had been relatively quiet and there hadn't been any real riots so far. Harry put a bonbon in his mouth and sighed.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Hermione stormed in, so that Harry choked on his bonbon with shock.

"My vault at Gringotts has been emptied!" she shrieked, her hair flying everywhere. "That must have been the goblins, before they left Gringotts. I can't believe it! Those long-fingered beasts! Ernie and Percy were quite right about taking Gringotts. Who knows, whom else they have mugged!"

"Whoa, calm down, Hermione. We'll examine that," said Harry, mildly surprised. "We mustn't lose our head now."

"Yes - yes, you're right, of course. We can't risk an open confrontation," she sighed, "it's very possible that we are dealing with single perpetrators here anyway. But when the public gets wind of this…"

"What do you want to do, Hermione, Fudge things up?" asked Harry. "No, we have made transparency our main maxim when reforming the Ministry."

"If you say so," she groaned. "But above all, we must maintain close diplomatic contact with them. A further escalation has to be prevented at all costs," she added, suddenly being quite the politician again.

"That's the spirit," agreed Harry.

O

"Good morning. Before we start, do you have any questions on the last lessons?" asked Professor Arrington.

Albus raised his hand tentatively.

"Mr Potter?"

"Professor Flitwick told me that my willpower wasn't going to help me much with Charms, Sir. He said it is very important for Transfiguration, though. On the other hand, in the formula we discussed, willpower doesn't appear. Now, my question is: How does willpower influence the effectiveness of a transfiguration, Sir? Is it part of my concentration?"

"Excellent question. Five points to Ravenclaw," said Professor Arrington.

"But, Professor," interrupted Strelka. "He only asked a  _question_  - surely you can't award him points for  _that_?"

"I can, and I will, Mr Strelka," answered Professor Arrington. "Five points from Slytherin for interrupting me and questioning my judgement."

Strelka looked as if he had just been cuffed.

"As for your question, Mr Potter," Professor Arrington continued, "there is a defined amount of willpower you have to overcome for every spell you do. The amount is specific for every spell, but it's fixed. Either you have the necessary willpower, or you haven't. There are no intermediate stages. In short, willpower is a basic prerequisite for your spell to succeed; you could just compare it to the need of pronouncing the incantation correctly, if we exclude non-verbal magic. It has no influence on the power of your transfiguration. You shouldn't confuse willpower and concentration, they are completely different aspects of casting a spell. In general, charms require much less willpower than transfigurations, so you shouldn't put too much in those. Please note, that it is very possible to tire mentally, if you put too much willpower into your spell, without need. In Transfiguration, however, willpower is very important; sometimes it's even the main challenge to manage the required amount, so you still shouldn't take it lightly. You will need equally much concentration in Transfiguration and Charms, though your concentration has to be from a very different kind in Charms. In Transfiguration you focus on the result, whereas in Charms the process of creating something is in the foreground. Did this answer your question, Mr Potter?"

"Yes, it did," Albus said happily. "Thank you."

"Excellent. Today, we'll be discussing the Five Principal Exceptions of Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. The law itself is simple enough: It states that, in principle, everything can be conjured magically, so to say, 'out of thin air'. More interesting are its five exceptions. Anyone knows them?"

Albus raised his hand, along with Quentin, Rose, Phobos and Strelka.

"Mr Nott?"

"Food, money, knowledge, love and life," recited Phobos.

"That's right. Five points to Slytherin," said Professor Arrington. "Of course, you won't be able to conjure anything until your sixth year, but nevertheless it's important to know the limits of Transfiguration. Ms Burke, Ms Patil, my eyes may not be quite as sharp as they are when I'm an American eagle, but I'm still not blind," he added towards Belvina and Pamela, who had been exchanging chocolate-frog-cards under the table.

"Do this once again in my class, and you'll receive detention. Anyway, as Mr Nott was correctly saying, food cannot be conjured. It can, of course, be summoned or even duplicated, with some limits. Why this is the case, cannot be explained. One should simply take it as an axiom. It makes quite some sense however, as conjured objects will eventually vanish. Imagine food vanishing in your body; this could seriously harm you. Please note that it is of course possible to transform any object, for example your desk, into something, which has the form, consistency and maybe even the taste of actual food. You could transform your desk into an animal as well, of course. Eating this 'fake food' or the animals you transformed cannot be recommended, however, as they wouldn't have the nutritional value you'd expect. Instead, you would be left with the nutritional value of your desk."

At this, Pamela Patil shivered theatrically, as if to demonstrate that she was paying attention after all.

"The second exception of Gamp's Law is money. If you conjure or duplicate money, the result is completely worthless. Personally, however, I have doubts regarding the precise wording of this exception. There was already magic when money didn't exist yet, and Gamp's Law may have been found by Gamp, but it's still an inner-magical law. It has certainly not been made by humans, unless magic itself has been created by humans, which I think we can exclude. So how can money be an exception of a law, which already existed when no one even thought of money yet? My solution would be to extend the second exception and include value in general. There are some problems with that, either, but this is a first year class and I digressed way too far anyway."

Albus was absolutely thrilled. Professor Arrington was talking about his own scientific thoughts on Transfiguration. He told himself to read more about Gamp's Law in the library and compare it to his teacher's idea. Inexplicably, most of his classmates seemed to have stopped listening long ago, judging by the glazed expressions on their faces. Quentin, Phobos, Rose and Strelka were still taking notes, but didn't appear to be too enthusiastic as well.

"You can think about that has homework if you want," Professor Arrington continued. "However, for you it is more important to know what Gamp's Law is, to know its Five Exceptions and to be able to explain them, roughly. Life, love and knowledge should be obvious enough; you'll write a two-feet-essay about those three until next week as homework. Class dismissed."

"What do you think about the problem with the money?" asked Albus, while they were returning to the commom room. "Do you think, value is the solution? But everything has a value, after all. How can that be an exception of Gamp's Law?"

"I don't know," said Quentin. "It would be interesting to know the chemical composition of a conjured or duplicated object, though… It can't be the same as the original, because then it would have the same value."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," said Scorpius. "And I understand even less, how you can actually care about that." He knocked with the eagle knocker.

"Imagine, you are in a dark room without doors. How do you get out?" asked the knocker.

"Well?" said Scorpius challengingly towards Albus and Quentin.

"Er..." Albus looked at Quentin, who seemed similarly clueless.

"Tut, tut. Discussing about philosophic, or, as you put it, scientific themes, but not even able to solve a riddle," said Scorpius mockingly. "Stop imagining," he added towards the eagle knocker.

"With the greatest of pleasure, my dear," answered the knocker and opened the door.

"Seriously, how do you know this always so quickly?" laughed Albus.

"Yes, Scorpius, without you, we'd be completely screwed," said Quentin, which caused Scorpius to look a little bit more satisfied.

"Hey, guys," shouted Adnan, storming towards them. "Have you heard? Tomorrow are the Quidditch trials. Are you trying to get into the team? I'll try for seeker!" he added cheerfully.

Over the last years, there had been more and more first-years who were formidable fliers, so the former rule that first-years were not allowed to have their own brooms had been suspended. As they were small and light, first-years were even sometimes seekers for their house.

Quentin and Scorpius shook their heads, whereas Albus nodded eagerly. "Sure! I'll also try out for seeker. Can't wait to play against James! He is the Gryffindor seeker," he said.

"Why don't you try to come into the team, Scorpius? You seemed to be a pretty good flier," said Adnan.

Scorpius blushed and mumbled, "I don't like to be in the spotlight."

"Me neither," said Quentin, covering Scorpius' embarrassment. "Besides, I don't have your talent for flying. If it gets too fast or too high, I get frightened. But I'll be watching you and keeping my fingers crossed, Albus, Adnan."

O

"Welcome to the first council of the Anti-Wizard-Alliance," said Ragnuk. The most high-ranked goblins of Gringotts and the silversmith's were sitting at a huge, round table.

"I am very happy to greet so many new members in our ranks. I think we are all agreeing, that wresting Gringotts from us was the final straw. We cannot accept the domination of the wizards in every sphere of our life. We cannot accept the subjugation of us goblins through the wand-carriers. We cannot accept to be driven permanently underground by our old enemies. This is what the AWA stands for. We have waited much too long. We should have acted long ago… But it doesn't matter anymore. Soon the wizards will do our bidding."

"And what makes you so sure of this?" asked Urguk, the chief of the former Gringotts goblins. "We are still phenomenally outnumbered by the wand-carriers, in total."

"Numbers aren't important," answered Ragnuk. "Our intelligence, thankfully, far outstrips the humans'. Besides, we already have a concrete plan. Harry Potter is the man we have to get under control. As Head of the Auror Office and, more importantly, the 'Boy who lived', he has immense influence at the Ministry and the whole wizarding world. For this reason, we have decided to capture his younger son, Albus Severus Potter."

Many of the goblins at the table murmured surprised.

"He seems to be the most obvious target. He is only a first-year at Hogwarts; once he is isolated from the teachers, he should hardly be a threat. Remember, Harry Potter's greatest weakness is that he cares too much about his loved ones. He would never do anything, which might endanger his son."

"Then, let's lose no time," said Golod, the chief silversmith. "Let's discuss how to capture Albus Severus Potter."


	4. Death and Quidditch

"We have already deployed AWA-agents at Hogwarts territory. Our base there is currently hidden in the so-called 'Forbidden Forest'. We had to hide it well, otherwise the centaurs might spot our presence there," said Gorniak.

"Let alone this eagle-transforming teacher, Arrington. It would be nice to get him out of the way. His skills are extraordinary," spat Ragnuk.

"It's too risky. He is too powerful, we would risk to get captured. However, our agents' job would be a lot easier, if we could ally with the centaurs. They would really be valuable allies, so close to Hogwarts. It seems too risky to openly invite them to join us, though; some of them are annoyingly loyal to Hogwarts. One of them, Firenze, even used to teach there," said Urguk.

"We will just deploy our usual methods," said Ragnuk, smirking. "I'll command our agents to orchestrate a quick, nice murder. Firenze will be killed, and it will look like the deed of a wizard. After that, the centaurs will be on our side in no time. They have been waiting for an opportunity to give the wand-carriers a wipe for a long time. As always, just a little trigger is needed."

"How do you want to make it look like a wizard's deed?" asked Urguk. "Our ways and means of killing have been pretty distinctive of our species so far…"

Ragnuk smiled cruelly. "It will look like a wand carrier's deed, because it will  _be_  a wand-carrier's deed. An old friend of mine will do it, a wand-carrier. By a happy chance, this friend is a teacher at Hogwarts."

O

Charms still caused Albus problems. Sure enough, he managed the Levitation Charm without problems now; he had levitated objects in the Ravenclaw common room until he was one hundred percent sure to succeed. With many other charms, however, he still failed to develop the right feeling.

"You all know, by now, how to light the tip of your wand," said Professor Flitwick, whose lessons were usually very enjoyable. Flitwick's cheerful, somewhat lenient nature, the high amount of practical work and the frequent opportunities to have a little chat with the desk neighbours made Charms one of the most popular classes among the students.

"Sometimes, however, you will want to have a brighter light, possibly focused in a particular direction. Then you use the sunlight charm, which you will be learning today. The incantation for this one is ' _Lumos Solem_ '. Please repeat, without wands, ' _Lumos Solem_ '."

" _Lumos Solem_ " the class chorused.

"Very good. The wand movement is a counter-clockwise loop, which ends with your wand being aimed at the target. Like this:  _Lumos Solem,_ " he said, turning towards the blackboard and clearly performing the mentioned loop. Immediately, the blackboard was bathed in a nice, yellow light.

"Now it's your turn. Please aim at the wall nearest to you, so you won't blind your classmates. Show me what you can do," finished Professor Flitwick and jumped from his book pile, to help his students and inspect their progress.

Quentin took out his wand, aimed it at the wall next to him and confidently said: " _Lumos Solem_ ," adding a perfect counter-clockwise loop with his wand. His success was spectacular; for five or six seconds, the wall was shining in a bright, golden light.

Even Professor Flitwick seemed surprised at this performance. "Well done, Mr Simiol!" he squeaked. "Brilliantly, indeed! Ten points to Ravenclaw!" he shouted enthusiastically. "Ah, Mr Potter! ' _Lumos_ ' wasn't providing quite enough light for your taste, I recall. Please try it, I'm sure you will excel today!"

Albus cleared his throat nervously. " _Lumos Solem_ ," he said, concentrating as gently as he could. His wand gave a faint light, which faded after a second.

"Don't be so reluctant, show some more determination," Professor Flitwick encouraged him. Albus frowned, gathered all his willpower and firmly said, " _Lumos Solem_ ," while performing precisely the required wand movement.

A wave of glaring, blinding light erupted from his wand and suddenly, everything was white. Albus couldn't see anything anymore, not the wall, not his wand, not Professor Flitwick; he could only hear some students yelling in shock. After some seconds, the light vanished.

"Potter!" squeaked Professor Flitwick angrily, his eyes still screwed up. "Were you going to blind us all? We don't fool around in this classroom! You will write lines for me, if you please, fifty times 'I am a wizard, not a baboon brandishing a stick'."

"I don't understand that," said Albus furiously when the class was finally over. "I just can't properly dose my concentration. And now I even have to write lines for Flitwick! It was him, after all, who told me to show more determination!"

"Don't worry, Albus," said Quentin. "I will try to help you with Charms. Look, you are so brilliant in Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts. I'm sure, you will succeed at Charms as well, with your talent."

"Thank you, Quentin," Albus said gratefully.

"You can't blame Flitwick, though. I really felt, as if this light was burning my eyes out of my sockets," chimed in Scorpius. "Besides, the sentence you have to write is really funny, you can't complain."

Albus couldn't help laughing at this. It really did his heart good to have his two friends, who could always cheer him up.

"What gets wetter and wetter, the more it dries?" asked the polite female voice of the eagle knocker, when they reached the common room.

"A towel," said Scorpius matter-of-factly, and the knocker opened the door to the common room, not without praising Scorpius for his resourcefulness.

O

The teacher pulled the hood deeper in the face and entered the Forbidden Forest. The teacher was going to execute the goblins' conspiracy with the greatest pleasure. A centaur befriending wizards - that was a typical part of the modern world, the world Potter and Granger created, a world where such friendships were even promoted. The teacher didn't want the Dark Lord back; the teacher did, however, believe in the pure-bloods' superiority, especially in comparison to other magical creatures. What the teacher wanted, was a chaos and fragility of the wizarding world. Chaos almost always resulted in revolutions. The goblins were working for exactly this, so it was only logical for the teacher to temporary ally with them. And for this reason, the teacher had to execute this murder. The teacher didn't mind, though; he had killed before, and killing was fun.

The teacher performed a Disillusionment Charm on himself and waited. It was exactly the same place Firenze was always using for stargazing. And, sure enough, the centaur soon came into the teacher's range of vision. The teacher felt a stimulating pulse in the veins and didn't hesitate for a second.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

Before he could even realize what just happened, the blonde centaur dropped dead to the ground.

O

Harry was upset. There was yet another murder to investigate, a murder on someone he had known very well. Firenze was dead. His corpse showed clear signals, that the Killing Curse had been used on him.

Sadly, Harry took a handful floo powder. Firenze had been a great person; Harry couldn't understand how any wizard could possibly want him dead. Throughout his life, Firenze had always spoken up for more dialogue and cooperation between wizards and centaurs. In fact, he had been more popular among wizards than centaurs. The only motive he could think of was pure-blood extremism, which didn't seem very likely. There hadn't been any activities of pure-blood-fanatics in the last years; all former Death Eaters had been captured and imprisoned long ago. And even if there were still some of them out there; why would they kill Firenze of all people?

Harry sighed and stepped into the fireplace. Professor McGonagall had requested a confidential meeting with him.

"Hogwarts, Headmistress' Office" he said clearly, and a few seconds later he stumbled into Professor McGonagalls Office.

"Good evening, Potter," Professor McGonagall said crisply. "There will be no need to scatter ash all over my carpet."

"Good to see you as well, Professor," said Harry and looked around. Dumbledore's former office had hardly changed. Professor McGonagall was sitting behind her desk with a serious expression on her face. Next to her stood a tough-looking, thin wizard with jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes. Harry recognized him at once: This was the Professor for Transfiguration, one of the world's leading experts in this subject, the Animagus Aaron Arrington.

"No offense, Professor Arrington, but I thought our meeting would be confidential?" Harry asked Professor McGonagall.

"We can trust Aaron," the Headmistress answered coolly. "He was perhaps the most gifted student I ever taught. I asked him to come as well, since he is exceptionally - ah - clear-sighted."

Harry nodded at Arrington in acknowledgement, who severely nodded back.

"I have called for you, Potter, to ask you about the current status of your investigations. Firenze's death has struck me personally. He was a great colleague and friend of mine. As the deed was committed on our school grounds, I have to contemplate the possibility that one of my teachers was involved in this. It wouldn't be the first time a Hogwarts teacher is running amok, in fact, as I'm sure you remember," said Professor McGonagall.

Harry was relieved that Professor McGonagall herself had raised this subject. He would have felt extremely uncomfortable in accusing her staff of containing a murderer.

"Indeed, there are some indications that the perpetrator might have come from Hogwarts," he said cautiously. "There are traces leading from the castle to the murder scene and back. This might, however, as well just been a ruse; one would think the murderer should have been clever enough to cover his tracks. The inhabitants of Hogsmeade haven't seen anything suspicious, but of course the perpetrator could have concealed himself easily. Still, we have to take the possibility into account that one of your teachers is behind this. I'm sorry," he added.

Arrington snorted. "You don't have a reason to apologize, Mr Potter," he said. "You wouldn't be doing your job if you didn't think that way. Besides, Minerva and I have already come to the same conclusion."

"Enough of this. Let's come to the point. Which teachers come into question? I think we can rule out Filius, Longbottom and Hagrid. Oh, and Binns, of course. Professors Vector, Sinistra and Babbling have been my colleagues for a very long time. I can't imagine anyone of them to commit a murder, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, glaring it Harry, as if he had just accused the mentioned teachers openly of murdering Firenze.

"Assuming you are right, only Reannon Botwright, Philandros Pyrites and Tyron Smethwyck remain," said Professor Arrington. "If Mr Potter is ready to believe that Minerva and I are innocent, obviously," he added drily.

"See, I am only doing my duty," answered Harry, a little taken aback by this. Arrington waved his hand impatiently.

"It's alright, Mr Potter, I was only joking."

"Reannon is a close friend of Pomona's," said Professor McGonagall. "I trust her completely, I must say, and I think, that everyone who knows her, knows that she is a great woman. It's very hard to see Philandros as a murderer, either, unless he is an extremely good actor. Tyron, honestly, I don't really like, I only hired him because of his outstanding abilities. Still, he was an Auror for so many years; he never used Unforgivable Curses, except in the Second Wizarding War. And why would he kill a centaur?"

Arrington snorted contemptuously. "Smethwyck's only outstanding ability is duelling. He is able to perform some spells with astronomical power there. In all other fields of magic, however, his skills are comparatively underdeveloped. He is, between ourselves, an idiot. Alas, idiots usually don't tend to be murderers."

Harry couldn't help but agree with this assessment. Still, he spoke out what was pressing his mind. "Be all that as it may, I will have to order my Aurors to examine the wands of the whole staff. Of course, a thoughtful perpetrator would have considered that beforehand. Still, it is a necessary measure."

Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together.

"I'm sorry, Minerva," Harry added.

"No, you're right, Harry. Of course you may examine the wands as you see fit. We have to do everything to solve this case, not only in memory of Firenze, but also to stop further crimes," Professor McGonagall said, drawing herself up to her full height.

"Thank you," said Harry relieved. "By the way, how have the other centaurs reacted?"

"Unsurprisingly, they are refusing any contact," answered Professor Arrington. "Hagrid tried to talk to them; I went into the forest personally, trying to reactivate some old contacts with Magorian. Without success, though. The centaurs don't want anything to do with wizards at the moment. You would be well advised to leave them alone for some time, I think."

"Very well. I will return with two or three Aurors in an hour or so, to control the wands. Thank you for your cooperation," said Harry and left the office.

O

Albus was extremely excited about the upcoming Quidditch tryouts. In fact, he had been practising the whole summer with James, who was the Gryffindor Seeker, to get into the Gryffindor team as Chaser or Reserve Seeker. Now, being a Ravenclaw, Albus' ambitions were even greater. The last days, his mind had been possessed with the desire to get into team, to the point that Scorpius asked him what he had told the Sorting Hat not to be sorted into Slytherin, with his burning ambition.

It came very handy that the former Ravenclaw Seeker had been a seventh year, so the position was now vacant. The captain of the Ravenclaw team, a sturdy sixth year who obviously was a Beater, introduced himself as Marquard Moon.

"Listen, everyone," Moon bellowed. "There are only two free spots in our team this year. We need one Chaser, and a Seeker. The rest of you might be taken as reserves, so you can still try out. There will be one reserve for each position."

Moon started with the Keepers and quickly decided on a new reserve Keeper. Impatiently Albus waited, while the Beaters and Chasers were flying. Then, after minutes that felt like ages, it was finally his turn. He had four rivals for the position of the Seeker, including his classmate Adnan Whitaker. Adnan smiled at Albus, but Albus didn't smile back. This wasn't the time for friendly banter. This was Quidditch, and Quidditch was serious.

Moon started testing their reactions by throwing tennis balls around and letting them catch them. This was an easy exercise for Albus, but he saw with satisfaction, that two of his competitors were already struggling and let some balls slip. Sure enough, Moon ordered them to leave the pitch at once, swinging his bat dangerously, so no one dared to argue.

Albus, Adnan and a tiny, pimply third-year had no difficulties with this task. To determine the best two, Moon ordered them to do a race over the pitch, with the other team members as living obstacles.

"Everything is allowed," he bellowed. "You just have to reach the other side of the pitch. The team will try to prevent you from doing so. The first two will be in the final."

Albus caught a deep breath. He had never been as nervous in his life as he was now, probably not at even at the Sorting; in fact, he was trembling.

Adnan, on the other hand, seemed quite relaxed and smirked at Albus, who was getting more and more annoyed by his friend's calm attitude.

"Start!" shouted Moon. All three raced off. Albus did his best to find his way past the other team members, who kept diving at him and his competitors. This turned out to be difficult, though, as they seemed to be approaching from all sides. Adnan, however, didn't seem particularly bothered by the attempts to stop him and seemingly effortlessly avoided all obstacles and finished first.

Albus clenched his teeth. The pimply third-year was flying right next to him. Albus grabbed his broomstick tighter. This was his last chance; there was no choice. He turned his broomstick and rammed his opponent as hard as he could. The third-year was caught completely off-guard and gratingly crushed into one of the looped goal posts. Several spectators cried angrily, but Albus paid them no attention and landed next to Adnan on the ground.

Moon, who had kept a straight face, didn't pay the loser, who was lying on the ground and groaning in pain, any attention. Instead, he said, "very well. You two are in the final. I will now release the Snitch. The one of you who catches it, will be our new seeker; the loser will be reserve. Understood?"

Both boys nodded. "May the better flier win," said Adnan, smiling at Albus, who didn't react and focused on Moon, who released the snitch.

Albus and Adnan pushed off from the ground and began searching for the golden Snitch. The longer they were searching, the more impatient grew Albus. His impatience soon turned into despair, when there was still no sight of the Snitch. He couldn't bear the thought of Adnan seeing it first.

Suddenly, Adnan abruptly dove towards the ground. Albus' heart seemed to stop for a moment; Adnan had spotted the Snitch. Albus followed him like madman, flying almost vertical towards the ground. Several spectators screeched, horrified. He failed spectacularly, though; Adnan skilfully caught the Snitch and landed gently. At the same moment, Albus fell forwards off his broom and crushed painfully next to Adnan at the ground. The spectators were already cheering and laughing; Albus saw Marquard Moon congratulating Adnan for making it to the team. Anger was boiling inside him.

He had lost.

O

Harry was waiting together with Professor McGonagall and Professor Arrington in the Headmistress' office for the wand-investigation to finish. Three Aurors, who were specialised on the "Priori Incantatem" spell, visited all the teachers and controlled their wands. Professor Arrington had refused this, because he had "experimented to invent new spells. I cannot allow strangers to look at my tries and possibly steal my ideas." In the end, Arrington agreed that instead of the Aurors, Professor McGonagall controlled his wand.

None of the three really had a convincing theory regarding the motive of the deed. Harry still tended towards pure-blood extremists; Professor Arrington didn't quite believe in this. They agreed, however, that the murderer's aim must have been to breed discord between humans and centaurs. Why he could have wanted that, however, remained a mystery. After the series of murders which were likely committed by the goblins, Firenze's death through the hand of a wizard was certainly unsettling. Was there a connection between the assaults?

Suddenly, the door of the office burst open, and the three Aurors entered the room. In their midst was a confused-looking Professor Botwright.

"What is the meaning of this, Proudfoot?" asked Professor McGonagall imperiously.

Proudfoot, who was one of Harry's most experienced deputies at the Auror Office, answered matter-of-factly, "Madam Botwright's wand was used to cast the Killing Curse on the centaur Firenze."

A shocked silence followed. "Preposterous," said Professor McGonagall, who had been the first to regain her composure, eventually. "What do you have to say about this, Reannon?"

"I must remind you, Madam Botwright, that any statement you make here could be used against - " began Proudfoot.

"Of course I had nothing to do with this!" interrupted Professor Botwright with a mixture of anger and fright. "Someone must have stolen my wand secretly!"

"Where have you been in the night Firenze died?" asked Harry.

"Well, I was in my bed, sleeping, I'd say," shouted Professor Botwright. "Good heavens, if you don't believe me, I am ready to say this under the influence of Veritaserum."

"You know as well as I do, that Veritaserum can be fought quite easily by a powerful wizard or witch," said Professor Arrington calmly. "Of course, no one can force you, but if you would agree to subjugate yourself to Legilimency, we could clarify this at once."

Professor Botwright shifted uncomfortably.

"You don't have to do this, Reannon," said Professor McGonagall. "There is no proof at all that you are guilty so far."

"No, I'm doing it," said Professor Botwright, taking a deep breath. "Under the condition, of course, that you will only look at the relevant things and not pry in my head unnecessarily."

"I would do it myself, but I'm afraid Potter and his Aurors need to do this for official reasons," sighed Professor Arrington.

"Peter?" asked Harry. Proudfoot was a by far more skilled Legilimens than he was. In spite of his former connection to Voldemort, this kind of mind magic had never been his strong suit.

Proudfoot nodded, aimed his wand at Professor Botwright and said, " _Legilimens_!" Professor Botwright flinched, but didn't resist. After about half a minute, Proudfoot drew back his wand.

"She's innocent," he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "In the night it happened, Madam Botwright was indeed sleeping."

Harry's shoulders slumped in relief. Professor Arrington snorted. "That's not really a piece of good news, is it, Mr Potter? No offense, Reannon, of course I'm glad it weren't you. But that means, that someone must have stolen your wand. Do you seal your office at night, Reannon?" he asked.

"Of course not," said Professor Botwright, who obviously had already recovered reasonably. "I am the Head of Hufflepuff House, I want my students to be able to reach me at night as well."

"So the perpetrator must have stolen the wand, killed Firenze and returned the wand afterwards," said Harry musingly. "That would mean that it was indeed a Hogwarts teacher."

"Or the murderer waited anywhere on our grounds for an accomplice in the castle to steal the wand for him. In this case, the thief could also have been a student, even if this theory seems a little more unlikely," said Professor Arrington.

"True. I cannot interrogate hundreds of students, though," said Harry. "Neither can I arrest the whole staff and use Legilimency on every single teacher. Minerva, please ask the students if anyone has recognized something. But, as there is a fair chance that there is a murderer in the castle, we have to be concerned about the students' safety. I could deploy some Aurors -"

"No," said Professor McGonagall immediately. "No offense, Potter, but I won't have Aurors in this castle. I highly doubt they would ensure more safety. There's no need look so doubtfully, Proudfoot. Face it, wherever you Aurors are, automatically conflicts and fights arise."

"I agree with Minerva," said Professor Arrington. "Don't worry, Mr Potter, I will have a close look at everything which is happening here, especially at Smethwyck and Pyrites, of course. There's no need to look so doubtfully yet again, Proudfoot, I assure you I am more than capable of doing this."

"Very well," said Harry reluctantly. "At the very least, however, we will have to question the teachers. Not now, though; Professor Botwright, please remain out of sight for the rest of the day. I want the perpetrator to think we fell into his trick and are suspecting you. Tomorrow in the morning we will return and hopefully catch him by surprise."

Professor Botwright didn't seem to be particularly enthusiastic about this, but still nodded.

"Then we will leave for now. Thank you all for your cooperation. Professor Botwright, I'm very sorry for the inconvenience we caused you." He paused. "Of course we might have to resume our investigations in the Forbidden Forest as well. I will keep you informed, Professor," Harry added towards Professor McGonagall.

"Thank you, Potter," said Professor McGonagall. Suddenly, she gave him a rare smile. "It's always good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, Professor," answered Harry, returning the smile. He nodded at Arrington, and together with Proudfoot and his two colleagues, he left the office.


	5. Match and Magimeter

Albus was sour. Being defeated by Adnan at the Quidditch trials was nothing he would take lightly. Of course, he still was reserve Seeker, which normally would have satisfied him. But being clearly beaten by his muggle-born classmate of all people he perceived as really humiliating. Not that Albus had any resentments against muggle-borns, but he had years of practice on a broom, whereas Adnan had just learned flying a few weeks ago. In consequence, Albus didn't speak a word to Adnan in the next weeks.

Neither Quentin nor Scorpius could understand Albus' behaviour, because in their opinion he had done well and at least became reserve, whereas Adnan had just been outstanding. Still, they tried to cheer Albus up as best they could, mostly by distracting him with schoolwork or wizard's chess. With the latter, however, they failed spectacularly, as Quentin turned out to be absolutely unbeatable. This didn't exactly please Albus, so they soon stopped this practice.

Still sulking, Albus delved with all his energy in his research on Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor Smethwycks class was a little more practical now; at least, they were allowed to fight doxies. That didn't satisfy Albus at all, though, and in every free second, he tried out new spells or read up the theory in library books.

After the painful experience with the Sunlight Charm, Albus didn't neglect Charms anymore and got significantly better in controlling his power, even if he still didn't have Quentin's outstanding feeling for the subject.

Potions was as mind-numbing as ever. Professor Pyrites simply broke his nerves.

"You are the greatest class I ever had, I must say!" he proclaimed. "Indeed, aren't you? Really, all of you have done so great in the last weeks, that now we can finally start discussing the specific reasons for taking this or that ingredient. I have certainly never in my life seen so many gifted first-years! No, absolutely not!"

"That's not so surprising, is it, keeping in mind that we are the only first-year class he ever taught. In fact, he is new at Hogwarts," murmured Albus towards Rose. Quentin was sitting next to Adnan today, who was quite upset that Albus wouldn't talk to him anymore. Scorpius always preferred to work alone, so Albus had sat down next to his cousin. Rose smirked. "I don't listen to his gibberish anymore," she whispered back.

"I can definitely understand your excitement!" said Professor Pyrites, completely misinterpreting their whispering. "That does sound nice, doesn't it? Oh yes, it does!" Then he eagerly began explaining the various effects of several potion-ingredients, talking incredibly fast. No one was really listening, though; Scorpius and Rose, who were clearly on top of class in Potions, seemed to already know the most Professor Pyrites was telling them. The rest of the class found it too strenuously, in the long run, to follow Professor Pyrites, and sooner or later zoned out.

After what felt like forever, Pyrites' oral fluency was over at last and they went outside, to the greenhouses, for their Herbology lesson. Albus wasn't really a fan of working with plants, but still he enjoyed the class because of his godfather, Neville Longbottom. Professor Longbottom always managed to keep his lessons interesting for everyone. And unlike Professor Pyrites, he was highly respected among the students, being a famous war hero.

While they were waiting outside for Professor Longbottom to arrive, Albus looked around. His eyes rested at the bush, where he had seen the slanted, yellow eyes after his fight with Strelka. Something didn't seem quite right with this bush; in fact, it seemed to have changed his position slightly. When Albus looked more closely, he could even see one slanted, yellow eye again. He frowned. What was the secret behind this bush?

"Good morning everyone! Today we're going to work in greenhouse two, so off we go!"

Professor Longbottom had arrived. Albus hurried towards him. "Neville, I have spotted something over there. Could you take a look at this…?" he whispered into his godfather's ear. Neville frowned, but seemed to take Albus' concern seriously, after Albus had not addressed him with the usual "Professor", but with his first name, like he did outside of school.

"Put on your protective gloves, everyone, I will be with you in a second," called Neville into greenhouse two, where the other students had gone, and returned to Albus.

"Albus, what…"

"Look at this bush over there," Albus interrupted nervously. "It's looking different than two weeks ago, it's moving. And I saw eyes in this bush, yellow eyes," he added.

"Okay. Don't watch it too conspicuously. Come on, look at me," Neville said sharply.

While he was pretending to control Albus' protective gloves, he threw a look at the bush. After some seconds, Neville's gaze turned back to Albus. He appeared worried.

"Yes, I saw the eyes as well, Albus. It's nothing to worry about, though; it's only, er, a ghoul, you know. There are some ghoul species who like to disguise themselves as, er, bushes. Yes. Best, we leave him alone. Now come on, let's get into the greenhouse, before your classmates are destroying all my plants," he said with an unconvincing smile.

Albus didn't know what to make out of this. Usually, his godfather was a very honest man, he thought, while he followed Professor Longbottom into the greenhouse. In this situation, though, he had certainly appeared nervous and worried. Had he told the truth about the ghoul? Albus couldn't tell, but he was going to find out for sure.

O

Neville was scurrying to the Headmistress' office. The "bush" Albus had showed him, was very unsettling. He had investigated it closer after the first-years' lesson, pretending to attend to his herbs in the near patch. Judging by the unmistakeable slanted, yellow eyes and the height of the "bush", he had come to the conclusion that it was an excellently disguised goblin. He hadn't dared to come closer or even attack, but decided to tell Professor McGonagall at once. It didn't bear contemplating, when there were indeed goblins on the school grounds and spying at Hogwarts.

"Dumbledore's army," he said. The gargoyle jumped aside, and Neville practically ran into Professor McGonagall's office. The Headmistress looked up from the parchment scroll she had just sealed, apparently surprised.

"What is the meaning of this, Longbottom?" she asked sharply.

"Professor McGonagall," Neville panted, "I think I have spotted a goblin near the greenhouses, disguised as a bush."

Before Professor McGonagall could answer, the door opened once again, and Professor Arrington marched inside.

"Saw you brush past me, Neville," he said calmly. "It's not often you are in such a hurry, except when you have forgotten your protective gloves in the teacher's room yet again, so I thought it might be important."

"This is not funny, Aaron," said Professor McGonagall. "According to Longbottom there is a bush near the greenhouses which is actually not a bush, but a goblin."

"Young Albus Potter recognized that something was strange with this bush and told me. I watched it inconspicuously, and I think it's a goblin, because of its height and the yellow eyes. I'm not one hundred percent sure, though, its disguise is deceptively real. I told Albus it was only a ghoul, but I don't know if he believed me," explained Neville.

"Where one goblin is, are more of them. Goblins on the school grounds. This is not good," said Arrington, frowning.

"Very not good," agreed Neville. "This might even have to do something with Firenze's death. We should tell Harry at once."

"I disagree. If we tell Potter, he will march in with a battalion Aurors in tow. This will make the goblins nervous, and I don't think we really want that, after what happened the last few months. Potter wouldn't find them anyway, they are far too clever to get caught by someone as hot-headed as Potter. Probably they're hiding anywhere in the Forbidden Forest and send small delegations to spy on us," said Arrington.

"You can't be serious!" exclaimed Neville. "The students are in danger, we can't just do nothing!"

"Exactly," said Arrington calmly. "The students are in danger, and the danger will be much bigger if we openly take action against these goblins! We have the advantage now, we know they're here. If we want to know what is behind these developments, we should - for now - let them unfold."

"I see your point," said Professor McGonagall, "but it's too risky. We will tell Potter; don't underestimate him, Aaron, he knows what he's doing. The question is, should we tell the other teachers and the students?"

"No," said Arrington at once. "Remember, there is maybe a traitor in our school. Besides, what would be the point in telling everybody? What are they supposed to do different than usually? I'd confide it to Filius, but none else."

"I agree," said Professor McGonagall. Neville, who had already opened his mouth to object, paused, surprised. "I will call Potter. When he arrives, I want you two to be present as well. Aaron, please let Filius know, too. We will have to discuss how exactly we handle this situation."

O

Before the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor against Ravenclaw, Albus didn't know where his sympathies lay. On the one hand, he was proud of being a Ravenclaw and strongly identified with his house. Besides, he was even a team member, though only as reserve. On the other hand, he surely didn't want Adnan to catch the Snitch, particularly with James being the Gryffindor Seeker.

So, while they were taking the seats in the stands, Albus felt pretty conflicted. His favourite scenario was that Ravenclaw won, but James caught the Snitch. Adnan would hopefully make a complete fool of himself.

It was raining heavily, when Marquard Moon and Roxanne Weasley, the Gryffindor captain, shook hands, and the match began. The Gryffindor team was pretty Weasley-heavy; Roxanne and Dominique were Chasers, Freddie and Lucy were Beaters and James was of course seeking.

All in all, it turned out to be a close game; the Gryffindor Chasers, especially Roxanne, were outstanding, but Ravenclaw had excellent Beaters and a good Keeper.

Gryffindor was 30 points in the lead, when Adnan and James suddenly raced abruptly upwards. The reason was obvious: The golden Snitch was hovering highly above the players. Adnan and James shot towards it, when the Snitch unexpectedly changed its direction and flew forward. Adnan and James reacted quickly, straightened their brooms and reached out for the Snitch. It was difficult to see everything through the rain. Everyone held its breath, mesmerized by the two seekers, who were flying tightly packed next to each other. Everyone - except Lucy Weasley, who dashed towards Adnan, crashed into him at full tilt and knocked him brutally off his broom. Many people were screaming. Albus watched, horror-struck, as Adnan, obviously unconscious, was falling with lightning speed towards the ground.

He was only saved by an insanely fast reaction from Professor Arrington, who leaped on his feet, whipped out his wand and cried " _Arresto Momentum!"_  Adnan's velocity was slowed down, and he hit the ground relatively gently. Professor Flitwick stormed onto the pitch, levitated Adnan on a stretcher and set off towards the castle.

James had caught the Snitch, but except a few cheering Gryffindors (Albus recognized Leon Strelka among them), no one really cared about that anymore. Albus was conflicted between horror about Adnan's dramatic fall and outrage about Lucy Weasley's brutal foul. He saw, however, that Professor McGonagall personally had already planted herself in front of Lucy, so he quickly met his decision and ran to the castle, accompanied by Quentin and Scorpius. Although no one had mentioned it, all three knew the destination: Adnan.

When they finally burst into the hospital wing, Professor Flitwick, Professor Arrington and Madam Pomfrey were already standing at Adnan's bed. Albus, Quentin and Scorpius ran towards him, but Professor Arrington held them back. Madam Pomfrey just poured a potion down Adnan's throat, whose eyelids fluttered; finally, Adnan woke up and shakily looked around.

"Adnan!" cried Albus, dashing past Professor Arrington. "Are you alright?"

Adnan winced. "I - Albus - yes - what - what happened?" he spluttered.

"Lucy Weasley knocked you off your broom," said Quentin. "You were racing towards the ground, it was really terrible. We all thought you would hit it at full tilt, but Professor Arrington cast a spell and you slowed down and didn't land that hard."

"I'm so sorry, Adnan," said Albus. "I was really unfair to you, after you beat me in the Quidditch tryouts. I'm really sorry."

"Enough," said Madam Pomfrey. "This boy needs  _rest_ , and you three are all way too agitated. I must ask you to leave now."

"It's alright, Albus," whispered Adnan. "Thank you for visiting me. I'll be alright."

"We will return later," promised Scorpius, glancing at Madam Pomfrey, who nodded reluctantly.

"Er, guys… What was the result of the game?" asked Adnan.

"Don't worry about that!" said Albus quickly. "James caught the Snitch in the end, but all that matters is that you are okay!"

O

"Potter. There you are again. And now you seem to finally have ruined my carpet."

"Good evening, Professor McGonagall," said Harry, knocking the ash off his cloak. "Professor Flitwick, Professor Arrington. Hi, Neville."

"We have a serious problem, Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "Longbottom spotted a goblin on our school grounds, disguised as bush. He isn't entirely sure, though," she added, throwing Neville an annoyed look, as if she didn't understand, how one couldn't be absolutely sure if there now were goblins on the school grounds or not.

Harry groaned. "That's all we needed. If they are planning an assault at Hogwarts…"

"We weren't quite sure how to handle this situation, so we decided to consult your opinion, Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "Longbottom thinks we should tell everyone, whereas Aaron doesn't want to let the goblins know that we know they are here, in order to have a strategic advantage over them."

Harry felt dizzy. This was getting more and more complicated. Forcing himself to stay calm, he took a deep breath.

"Very well. Before we do anything, we should verify with one hundred percent certainty that there are indeed goblins on the school grounds. Any speculation is unacceptable in this case. It is too important. We have to be exactly in the picture, if and how many goblins there are," he said.

"That's all well and good, but how exactly are you intending to do that?" asked Professor Arrington. "They are probably hiding in the Forbidden Forest, and if your Aurors stumble around there, the goblins will spot them at once, and then the situation might get really dangerous."

"I assure you, that my Aurors don't  _stumble around_. Besides, I hate to ask, but aren't you an Animagus, Professor Arrington? An American eagle? Couldn't you…?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Mr Potter," snapped Arrington. "You seem to underestimate those goblins massively! My Animagus form is not a secret, Mr Potter! I'm officially registered! Do you really think the goblins don't know that, especially when they are so interested in Hogwarts?"

Harry frowned. "Well - I suppose I'll have to clarify this with the Ministry…"

"With the Ministry?" Arrington said disbelievingly. "Are you serious? Mr Potter, you can be absolutely sure that the goblins have spies in the Ministry, if they have even spies at Hogwarts! You don't realize, how delicate this situation is! We don't know what the goblins are up to, but if they feel threatened, all hell is going to break loose! Do you want a war?"

Harry was slowly getting angry about Arringtons attitude. "What do you expect me to do? I am working for the Ministry, in case you haven't noticed! If you don't want the Ministry to know, why have you actually called for me? The students' lives are at danger, Arrington, I cannot simply sit back and take things easy!"

Arrington rolled his eyes. "That's just what Neville said. But we have to act rationally, Mr Potter, not emotionally! I don't think that the students' lives are at stake at the moment! As long as they are only spying, we should let them do as they like, and concentrate upon finding out what they are up to!"

"And what exactly do you want to do, Aaron?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"I see two possibilities, Minerva," said Arrington. "Firstly, we could send a spy on our part. Of course, it won't be possible to recruit a goblin, but a disguised or invisible wizard might be enough as well. However, this could be very risky. Secondly, we could tell the goblins we know they're here, without threatening them. We could just openly ask them what they want. Aggression or diplomacy? That is the question here, and the answer isn't as simple as it seems. It might be very well the case that it's already too late for diplomacy."

A thoughtful pause followed.

"Aaron is right," said Professor McGonagall. "I for one would send a skilled spy, because I think it's essential for us to know what they could possibly want at Hogwarts. Goblins may have a difficult past with wizards, but they were never the kind of creatures to murder children."

"Spying them is not as easy as it sounds," said Harry. "They will expect something like this, I'm sure they have taken precautions. I agree, though, that we have to find out what they're up to above anything else. We'll need an extremely skilled, trustworthy spy, though. I will consult Ernie, Ron and Hermione, no one else, I promise. Well, my wife, I guess. Please don't undertake anything without our consent."

"The same should go for you, Mr Potter, shouldn't it," muttered Professor Arrington.

"Very well," said Professor McGonagall. "So this is decided. Please notify us soon, Harry. Aaron, Filius, Neville, you are the only ones on it, and I want this to stay between us. Please don't tell any other teacher or student, and keep your eyes open."

O

"Ragnuk!" said Golod, the chief smith, briskly.

Ragnuk didn't really like Golod. He didn't act out of scrupulousness, but only out of greed. Still, Ragnuk had fought hard for the smiths' allegiance, as he had expected them to provide the AWA with valuable tools. So far, they hadn't been of much use, though.

"Golod?"

"I have good news, Ragnuk," said Golod. Ragnuk sat up a bit. Golod usually wasn't a very exuberant goblin, so "good news" could actually be translated as "fantastic news".

"We succeeded in inventing a most valuable instrument, most valuable indeed," said Golod, all the time speaking in a monotonous voice.

"You did?" asked Ragnuk eagerly. "What is it?"

"This," said Golod brusquely and pulled out a small, cylinder-shaped object, which had some similarity with a compass. Next to a big needle, however, there were several other needles and displays.

"What's that?" asked Ragnuk, a little surprised in view of the filigree artefact. He had kind of expected a sword, or a helmet.

"We call it Magimeter," answered Golod.

Ragnuk rolled his eyes. "Come on, Golod," he said impatiently. " _What does it do?_ "

"It detects magic within a circuit of a half mile, at maximum. It can be adjusted, however, to concentrate upon a smaller perimeter," said Golod.

"What do you mean, it 'detects magic'," asked Ragnuk. "Does it detect wizards?"

"Yes," said Golod. "Magic always leaves traces. Our Magimeter can track down those traces. It detects magical objects or spells as well. This display indicates if it is a wand-carrier, an object or a spell. This display gives the distance of the magic from the Magimeter, whereas the big needle indicates the direction. The smaller needle reflects, how powerful the detected magic is," he explained.

"That's - not that bad," said Ragnuk, determined to behave just as unemotional as Golod. "How many of those did you make?"

"This is the only prototype," said Golod. "It contains very rare materials, and we consumed a lot on developing and testing it. We will try to produce more, but it is extremely difficult and will take some time."

"Does it actually tell us anything here at Hogwarts, with so strong enhancements in place?" asked Ragnuk.

"Not if we get too close to the castle," answered Golod. "Then, the amplitude is far too big to detect anything specific."

"Well, how do you know that it  _can_  actually detect something specific, then?" asked Ragnuk irritably.

"By limiting its range to a smaller area, for example the Forbidden Forest," said Golod, who seemed to be quite enjoying Ragnuk's impatience.

"The Forbidden Forest?" spat Ragnuk. "Do you detect magical creatures, as well?"

"No," said Golod calmly. "Our Magimeter only reacts to human-made magic."

"Do I have to worm everything out of you?" snarled Ragnak. "What could you possibly detect in the forest, then?"

"When we were testing the Magimeter, we got an extreme reaction in the forest. It indicated an incredibly powerful magical artefact. We went into the direction the big needle was pointing to and arrived at the place where the object had to be, because the needle was then rotating quickly. There was, however, nothing in sight. We thought that the Magimeter didn't work correctly."

" _And_? Did it work correctly or not?" asked Ragnak impatiently, when Golod paused yet again.

"As a matter of fact, it did," said Golod. "Of course, we closely investigated the ground, and we found  _this,_ " he added, and pulled out a small stone out of his pocket.

"Oh? And what is this, er,  _peeble_  supposed to be?" asked Ragnak.

"This," answered Golod with a dramatic pause, "this, Ragnuk, is the Resurrection Stone."


	6. Fiendfyre

Christmas was coming. Although Albus enjoyed his time at Hogwarts, he was looking forward to seeing his parents and his younger sister, Lily, again. It wasn't as if he would see only his closest family, though; it had become a tradition for all Weasleys to meet at the Burrow for a huge Christmas feast. Still, there were two more weeks at Hogwarts, before the holiday started.

Of course, he had been in the library for hours, searching for ghoul species that liked to disguise as bushes. Admittedly, he hadn't found anything, and finally he had to draw the conclusion, that Neville hadn't told the truth about the bush with the yellow eyes. In the next Herbology lesson, Albus looked out for the bush again. However, it wasn't there anymore. Where the bush had been a week ago, now was just nothing but bare earth. Neither Quentin, nor Scorpius had a logical explanation for this circumstance, so Albus intended to ask his father about it in the holidays.

In Defence Against the Dark Arts, Professor Smethwyck gruffly announced that they were starting to practise how to duel. It wasn't like Albus had expected it to be, though. Two students had to stand opposite with a distance of a few meters between them. In the middle between them a puck was placed, which had to be pushed magically towards the opponent. According to Professor Smethwyck, this exercise improved the "magical power".

"You will learn to make your spells as powerful as they can be, and that's all that counts in a duel in the end," he said.

Albus was slightly surprised at this, because it didn't have much in common with the duels his father had told him about. Still, it was quite fun to push the puck towards the opponent, and Albus practically always won his "duels". His only challenge were Rose, Strelka and Quentin, whose power wasn't as explosive as Albus', Rose' or Strelkas, but it was compensated by his deep concentration. Scorpius, on the other hand, soon lost interest in this "stupid game" and started to change the rules, for example by levitating the puck. Professor Smethwyck wasn't amused at this and deducted ten points from Ravenclaw because of Scorpius' "shirking".

The Transfiguration lessons Albus found not as exciting as in the beginning anymore; Professor Arrington proceeded in a much slower pace than Albus with his own practising. Hence, he was mostly quite bored during the lessons, because he already knew everything Professor Arrington was telling them and could easily perform every transformation they had to do.

After a particularly dull period, Professor Arrington asked Albus to stay behind for minute. Albus was worried; had he done anything wrong? Maybe he had paraded his superiority a bit too much?

Without a long preamble, Professor Arrington said, "Mr Potter, you already know everything I cover in my lesson and more. I increasingly get the impression that you actually learn nothing in my class."

"Well, I - I'm practising a lot alone, Professor," Albus answered. "Besides, all the transformations we do in class are so easy."

"No, they aren't. At least not for all the other students, as I'm sure you have noticed," said Professor Arrington. "I am aware, however, that you are highly unchallenged. In fact, you are a prodigy in Transfiguration like I have never seen it before. Thus, I have asked Professor McGonagall for the permission to tutor you personally, in order to unfold your whole potential."

"Tutor me - personally?" Albus echoed, surprised.

"Yes," said Professor Arrington. "Only if you want to, of course. I would teach you much more advanced Transfiguration than I can in my regular lessons. Obviously, this is entirely on a voluntary basis and you can end it any time. By the same token, if I feel that you fall short of my expectations, or that you are neglecting other subjects, I would stop the tutoring immediately. In any case, you would of course still be attending to the regular class, even if I may give you special assignments. What do you think?"

"I would love that!" said Albus eagerly. "Can you also teach me Defence Against the Dark Arts, Professor?" he added.

Professor Arrington raised an eyebrow. "So you're bored there too? I get it. But unfortunately, Professor Smethwyck is our DADA expert. Besides, it would be highly unfair for the other students if I treated you differently."

"But, Sir… I already practised 'Petrificus Totalus' and 'Locomotor Mortis' for myself, and I'm working on 'Protego'… But Professor Smethwyck would only let us fight doxies or push pucks around," Albus complained.

Professor Arrington snorted, amused. "You're working on 'Protego'? Well, before you hurt yourself by practising dangerous spells without guidance, I suppose I could help you with duelling as well… But please don't tell everybody, or I'll be accused to be unfair."

"Yes, Sir," said Albus, beaming.

"And remember, Mr Potter, if your performance in the other subjects drops significantly because you only concentrate on Transfiguration and DADA, I will stop this at once," said Professor Arrington sharply. "This is only a bonus, because I have never understood why only the weaker students should get special assistance. We will start after the Christmas holiday."

O

Harry was tensed. He had just filled Ernie, Ron and Hermione in on the potential goblin problem at Hogwarts. Right now, there was a short silence. Then, Ernie groaned.

"Harry, I'm sure you realise that something has to be done about this? The status right now is absolutely inacceptable," he said pompously.

Harry sighed. "Two of my children are at Hogwarts, Ernie, believe me, I'd like to flood the school grounds with Aurors and get rid of the goblins. Unfortunately, Arrington is right. If we openly confront them, the situation could become most precarious."

"But Harry, have you thought of their intentions?" asked Ron. "Maybe they even want to take our children as hostages."

"I know," said Harry. "But if they are hiding in the Forbidden Forest, I don't know how we're even supposed to find them."

"We could place some Aurors inside the school, for the students' safety," suggested Ernie.

Hermione snorted derisively. "And what exactly are they supposed to do, inside the castle? They would be as blind as bats. Besides, the goblins would recognize them and just act even more carefully."

Harry nodded. "Arrington suggested to send a spy on our own…"

Hermione looked doubtfully. "They will be prepared for something like that… It's very risky…"

"Well, we don't even know for sure if there are actually goblins, do we?" said Ernie. "Maybe Neville was wrong about the bush, and it was just a wild animal. Next week starts the Christmas holiday anyway; maybe the coming and going of the students is a chance to keep our eyes open unobtrusively."

"I trust Neville's judgement," said Harry. He took a deep breath. "But alright. I will talk to Professor McGonagall about this. But if we won't be able to find out what the goblins are up to, we will have no other choice but addressing them openly. The safety of the students has to stand above everything else."

O

The teacher stood at the tracks of the Hogwarts Express. According to the teacher's calculation, the train had to arrive here in about five minutes. The time had come to perform the teacher's favourite spell.

" _Ignis daemonis!_ "

The bewitched flames were flowing out of the teacher's wand, mutating into fiery beasts. The teacher just loved Fiendfyre. It would be a nasty surprise for the train… At Hogwarts, it was much too risky to try this curse. But here, outside, there was no danger for the teacher to get caught.

Of course, the teacher didn't intend to kill all the students. Here, the teacher could control the Fiendfyre as he wished, he would call it back in time. Some nice deaths of students, caused by a clearly non-goblin, unknown force, would raise complete chaos, which was just what the teacher wished. Of course, the goblins didn't know about this; probably they wouldn't agree to kill children for no concrete reason. The teacher didn't care about the goblins. They were nothing but a tool for the teacher, to cause chaos in the wizarding world, to provoke a detergent war.

From far, the train could already be heard. The teacher smiled inwardly and formed the Fiendfyre into the ideal shape, huge wall. The teacher had of course taken care of the brakes of the train; they wouldn't have a chance. This was going to be really fun.

O

When Albus Severus Potter boarded the Hogwarts Express for the second time in his life, he felt very happy. Hogwarts had been nice so far, Professor Arrington would give him extra tutoring for Transfiguration and Duelling and now he had two weeks of holiday and would see his whole family. His world was perfect.

Scorpius was extremely impatient to see his parents again; he had already been a bit homesick in the last few weeks. Quentin, on the other hand, wasn't too enthusiastic about the Christmas break; at least, his father conducted an election campaign in France, as he wanted to become the "President Magique", the French equivalent of the Minister of Magic. He was actually quite relieved about this, because he always felt only intimidated by his strict father. In fact, he would have rather stayed at Hogwarts during Christmas, but his mother insisted he had to return home.

Sitting in a compartment with Rose and Phobos, they had quite a pleasant train ride, until the compartment door opened and Leon Strelka stepped inside, accompanied by Zacharias Myers, who, however, hardly showed up behind Strelka's bulky body.

"Get off!" snarled Albus, drawing his wand. "You are clearly outnumbered. Don't try anything."

"Now, now, the pure-blood princes, so impolite," said Strelka mockingly. "I wasn't coming for you anyway, Potter, but for Weasley and Nott. They are Slytherins; I just wanted to invite them to sit with their housemates. That is only appropriate."

"Thanks for the offer,  _Leon_ , but I think I'll be sitting with my cousin," hissed Rose.

Strelka raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I - I'll stay with Rose, I guess," said Phobos. Strelka theatrically raised his second eyebrow.

"And now get out of here!" shouted Albus.

"Don't you dare talk to us in this way, Potter," shouted Myers.

"Is there a problem?" said a calm voice behind him. Strelka and Myers whirled around. Professor Arrington was standing in front of them.

"No, Sir. Zacharias and I were just visiting our housemates," said Strelka and hurried away, with Myers close on his heels.

Professor Arrington had just turned around to leave as well, when suddenly a corpulent, uniformed man with a very red face, running with sweat, stormed in, who had to belong to the train staff.

"Sir! Our sensors suddenly detected some extremely dangerous Dark Magic ahead! Incredibly dangerous, in fact! We don't know exactly what it is, though. However, we have hardly two minutes until we reach it! The brakes aren't working for some reason! We are slowing the train down manually, but we won't be able to stop it in time!" he shouted.

"WHAT?" yelped Professor Arrington. "Back off, everyone, I have to get on top of the train to find out what it is."

Albus and the others quickly ran out of the compartment.

" _Confringo!_ " shouted Professor Arrington, blasting a hole in the ceiling of the train.

" _Salialto!_ " he added, pointing his wand at himself. Suddenly, he shot upwards through the hole and landed on top of the train.

About ten seconds later, he jumped back into the compartment.

"I can't believe it!" he cried. "Someone out there has conjured a  _wall_  of Fiendfyre! I have never seen anything like this! It's a disaster! Everyone has to jump out of the train immediately, or it will kill us all!"

"Jump out of the train?" the uniformed man asked disbelievingly. "At this speed? Not all of the students will be able to cast a cushioning charm!"

"Be quiet, you idiot! We've only got a minute or so!  _Sonorus maxima,_ " Professor Arrington roared, directing his wand at his throat.

"LISTEN, EVERYONE! THIS IS PROFESSOR ARRINGTON! WE ARE GOING TO COLLIDE WITH FIENDFYRE IN LESS THAN A MINUTE! I WILL NOW SHATTER ALL THE WINDOWS! YOU HAVE TO JUMP OUT OF THE TRAIN  _AT ONCE_! CAST A CUSHIONING CHARM FOR YOU AND YOUR SCHOOLMATES IF YOU CAN, FOR THE REST I WILL TRY TO CONJURE HUGE SOFT FLOOR MATS. IF YOU DON'T JUMP IMMEDIATELY, YOU WILL DIE!"

"Quietus," murmured Professor Arrington in order to make his voice normal again and then shouted " _Canetis resonatus!_ " An extremely high-pitched, inhuman noise filled the air. Albus squinted his eyes in pain; when he opened them again, the windows had indeed been shattered.

Before he could do anything, he was hurled outside by an invisible force. He landed gently on a gigantic soft floor mat. Quentin, Scorpius, Rose and Phobos followed; Professor Arrington was magically pushing them all outside. From inside the train, he conjured huge soft floor mats everywhere students were jumping out of the windows. Then he vanished out of Albus' sight, presumably attending to the other side of the tracks.

The train had slowed down considerably, but it was still moving. It slowly drove past them, towards a big fire wall, which was towering a few hundred meters away. Still, new soft floor mats were appearing everywhere, and still dozens of students were jumping out of the train. When it was only about a hundred meters from the Fiendfyre, Professor Arrington himself jumped outside and immediately fired spells towards a hooded shape, who seemed to control the Fiendfyre.

The hooded person appeared surprised at this. The flames vanished, and the shape quickly disapparated, before Professor Arrington could reach it. The train remained unscathed and finally came to a stand, just at the place where the Fiendfyre wall had been before.

Professor Arrington raised his wand, and a Patronus in the form of an American eagle erupted from it and quickly sailed away. Then he turned towards the students, who were lying dispersed on the field the train had been driving through.

Albus looked around. It was a shocking view. Many students had landed on the soft floor mats and appeared to be fairly okay. But especially on the other side of the tracks, where Professor Arrington hadn't managed to conjure as many mats, many students seemed to be injured, judging by the screams of agony.

Some students were hurrying out of the now standing train; obviously, not everybody had managed or dared to jump out in time.

Suddenly, people appeared all over field; Albus recognized his father and his uncle, Ron Weasley. Professor Arrington hurried towards them and said something; Albus' father nodded, and his voice boomed, magically increased:

"Our healers will now attend to those of you who have badly injured themselves. Please send red sparks in the air, if you are in strong pain or are if you are especially worried about anyone close to you. If someone isn't reacting or moving, you have to call at once. If you are unscathed, please join us, so we can register your name."

The healers were already hurrying around, helping the students. Albus ran towards his father; James was already there.

"Dad!" he cried.

"Albus!" said his father and hugged him tightly. "I'm so glad you're okay… Please wait here, your mother will arrive at any moment and take you home." With this, he turned towards Professor Arrington.

"What the hell happened?" Harry asked him.

"Fiendfyre," growled Professor Arrington. "There was a single person controlling a wall of Fiendfyre as if it was nothing. The instruments in the train detected it only two minutes before we reached it. The brakes weren't working; someone must have corrupted them. The train personal tried to stop it manually, but they only managed to slow us down. I shattered the windows and ordered the students to jump outside; I had no choice. The Fiendfyre would have killed us all. There is no known way to fight it. With cushioning charms and those mats I tried to prevent the worst, and the train had slowed down considerably. I feared that not everyone would make it out of the train in time, so I attacked the person controlling the Fiendfyre. It was impossible to see his or her face, it was masked. When I started casting some spells, this madman thankfully just extinguished the fire and disapparated."

"He extinguished it? Just like that? But why?" asked Harry, bewildered.

Arrington rolled his eyes. "You don't know how Fiendfyre works, do you, Mr Potter? It's a continuous stream out of your wand. You can only extinguish it by absorbing it again, also with your own wand,  _as I really shouldn't have to tell you_ , Head Auror. You cannot just set anything on fire and then vanish. It will just continue streaming out of your wand. The only way to stop it, is to draw it back completely. This is not at all easy, obviously, because Fiendfyre is extremely difficult to command or control, let alone to call it back. That is also why it is so seldom used. It would be deadly to apparate with Fiendfyre flowing out of your wand, so the perpetrator had to extinguish it in order to not risk getting caught. He wouldn't have had a chance to defend himself in a duel, having to look after the Fiendfyre. Apparently, killing us all wasn't worth this risk."

"How are the students?" inquired Harry from a healer, who was just hurrying past them.

"A girl and a boy are dead," the healer said sadly. "A second year girl… She didn't jump far enough and hit her head on the tracks. The boy was a third-year; he apparently couldn't cast a cushioning charm and missed the mats. The crash on the ground broke his neck. Still, it's almost a miracle, but as it seems, everyone else will live," she added. "We've got many broken bones, several concussions and myriads of abrasions, of course, but no one else seems to be in mortal danger."

"Two students are dead," murmured Professor Arrington sadly. "And it falls into my responsibility."

"Don't be ridiculous, mate," said Ron. "If you hadn't reacted quickly, there would have been many more dead students. In fact, you are a hero."

"James! Albus!" shouted a female voice behind them. Their mother had arrived. "Mom!" cried Albus and threw himself into her arms.

"Oh, my boys… I'm so relieved that you are well… "

More parents were appearing at the field; Albus saw Scorpius dashing to his parents, who had both come to fetch him.

"Take my hands now," said Ginny. "You too, Rose, I will take you home as well. Harry and Ron will have to work, I'm afraid."

Albus, James and Rose took Ginny's hands, and together, they disapparated.

O

The Ministry was under pressure. A wall of Fiendfyre, conjured by a single man, students jumping out of the Hogwarts Express, two fatalities - this was the biggest crisis since the Second Wizarding War. The mysterious Fiendfyre-caster caused a flurry of speculation - there was even talk about Voldemort's rebirth.

Harry was worried. Not because of Voldemort, of course, he had always known that it was only a matter of time until a new evil arose. What bothered him much more, was the fact that there had been so many mysterious happenings in such a short space of time. First the (presumably) goblin-murderers, then Firenze's death through a Killing Curse, cast by Professor Botwright's wand, and now this incredible assault on the Hogwarts Express.

Harry was absolutely sure there was a correlation between those catastrophes. But neither he, nor Ernie, Hermione, Ron or anyone else had any idea what could connect all the deaths. Relatives of Ministry employees, a centaur, Hogwarts students - it was very difficult to see a pattern.

He yawned. Sleep had been rare the last days, even on Christmas he hadn't been able to be with his family for more than one day. At least, Albus and James were alright. Harry would love to head home at once and spend time with them, but unfortunately, now was a meeting with Ernie, who was Minister of Magic, Ron, Hermione, who was Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Professor McGonagall, Professor Arrington and Donald Cresswell from the goblin-liaison office. Of course he had to be present at such an exalted conference.

"Welcome everyone, thank you for coming," said Ernie jovially. "We are here to consult about the recent events. Harry, please begin. What is the current status of your investigations?"

"The brakes of the Hogwarts Express have been corrupted before the train started. If it was the same person, who conjured the Fiendfyre, or an accomplice, is unclear. The brakes were of course tested before the departure from Hogwarts, but no defect was found. That means that either the manipulator found a way to destroy the breaks so the damage couldn't be found, or he did it in the very short period between test and departure. How he could have done this without getting noticed is a mystery, though, as there are spells in place that alert us if anyone approaches the train."

"This is most unsettling," said Ernie. "Do you have any new insights about that Fiendfyre caster?"

"Not really," sighed Harry. "Dark magic of this calibre usually has quite a strong scent, which makes it easier to find the caster. Unfortunately, in this case we haven't had any luck. The identity and the whereabouts of this person are completely unknown to us."

"Mr Cresswell, you are in regular dialogue with the goblins. Can you tell us, how they stand to these happenings?" asked Ernie.

"Sure," said Donald Cresswell, the son of Dirk Cresswell, who had died in the Second Wizarding War. "The goblins condemn the assault utterly and speak from an 'outrageous deed, which has to be solved as quickly as possible'."

"We smuggled a few polyjuiced Aurors among the students, before the departure of the Hogwarts Express. They searched the school grounds a bit and cast a few goblin-detecting spells. However, there were no indices at all for the presence of goblins. Either they hide extremely well, maybe with the help of wizards, or they just aren't there, at least not anymore," said Ron.

"In any case, the Fiendfyre seems to be the bigger problem at the moment," said Professor Arrington. "I have never seen anything like this; this guy seems to be a Fiendfyre-Whisperer, if you ask me."

"Come off it," said Professor McGonagall disdainfully. "The stories of Fiendfyre-Whisperers are rubbish. Of course, there have been wizards and witches in the past who have been able to control this curse better than others, but that's no reason to suddenly believe in such a preposterous legend."

"Sorry," said Ernie. "Could you please fill me in what legend you are talking about?"

"According to the legend, there existed people in the past, who could literally talk to Fiendfyre and command its fiery beasts directly, through a special language. It is supposed to be an extremely rare ability, even rarer than Parseltongues. Of course, there is no evidence at all that such wizards or witches ever existed."

Harry shook his head. "The Chamber of Secret was also supposed to be a legend. The Deathly Hallows were supposed to be a legend. We shouldn't be too quick with our judgement there."

"Legend or not, this person seems to be incredibly skilled with Fiendfyre, which is very dangerous for us," said Professor Arrington. "We have to do something about this. I'll do some research on counter-curses against Fiendfyre. Maybe I can invent a few spells. I'm not too optimistic about it, though; as far as I know, all former tries to find something effective against Fiendfyre have failed completely. Oh, and maybe you should assign your Department of Mysteries this task. That would be their unique chance to do something useful."

"There's some truth in this," said Ron. "However, I'm afraid that Fiendfyre will be way too ordinary for the Department of Mysteries. We don't have any influence on them, anyway."

"There is still the problem, how to bring the students back to school," said Professor McGonagall. "Can we risk using the train again, with its obvious safety problems?"

"Difficult to say," said Professor Arrington. "Firstly, the sensors has to be improved massively, especially their range. Some automatic defensive systems would also be nice, even if Fiendfyre-immunity will hardly be possible. Secondly, there has to be installed an emergency braking, that has to be checked immediately before the departure. Thirdly, there have to be much more teachers on the train! Maybe even Aurors. Yes, Mr Potter, Aurors! This should at least be a task they are up to. Fourthly, the route has to be monitored all the time. If all this is guaranteed, then the Hogwarts Express should be safe enough."

"I agree," said Harry. "I will arrange everything. If there are any problems, we will resort to portkeys. And now, if you don't mind, I'll leave. My children are home for the holiday, and I'm hardly seeing them. Have a nice day," he added and left the Ministry.

 


	7. Christmas Break

"I gave the 'Daily Prophet' a long interview," said Urguk. "I condemned the assault on the Hogwarts Express and labelled Harry Potter 'a great goblin-friend'. That got us some sympathies back among the wand-carriers. Some of them are already talking about giving us Gringotts back."

"Ha! Now we want more," said Ragnuk. "But the interview was excellent, I admit. Who are currently our biggest advocates?"

"Donald Cresswell from the so-called 'goblin-liaison office' and Bill Weasley from Gringotts are defending us in public," responded Urguk.

"Excellent. Urguk, please send the Daily Prophet another statement; tell them that the goblins owe Macmillan and the Potter-Weasley family great gratitude for defeating Voldemort and that we would like to find peaceful compromises for all of our conflicts. Gorniak, you arrange the murder of Bill Weasley. That will confuse them completely and cause even more conflicts and chaos at the Ministry," said Ragnuk.

"Good idea," said Urguk, whereas Gorniak bowed and said, "yes, Ragnuk."

"Wait a minute," said Golod. "It won't be easy at all to kill Bill Weasley. After our assault on Audrey Weasley, they will be more careful. And Bill is certainly no easy prey. Besides, he even has friends among goblins. Do you really want to murder an exceptional wand-carrier like him?"

"Ah, well, sacrifices must be made," said Ragnuk, shrugging. "But you're right, it's risky. I will have my wand-carrying friend at Hogwarts alter the goblin's memory, who will carry out the deed. He will think that the French 'President Magique' candidate, Francois Simiol, was his employer. If he gets captured, the Ministry will face quite a riddle… A nice little conflict between British and French wand-carriers will come quite handy…"

"A wand-carrier altering a goblin's memory, with our approval. You're almost going too far, Ragnuk. But your plan is nice," said Golod. "This will cause a lot of chaos."

"Changing the subject, as you all know by now, we have found the Resurrection Stone with a new instrument called Magimeter, invented by Golod and his smiths," said Ragnuk.

"That is all good and well, but how do we use it? Are you going to sell it? We could realize quite a profit with it," said Urguk.

"Hm," said Ragnuk, "maybe. But actually, I had another idea what to do with it. It doesn't work for goblins; according to reliable sources, the Resurrection Stone can only be used by witches or wizards. We already tried it out, of course - nothing happens."

He threw an annoyed look at the stone lying in front of him, as if it had personally offended him.

"But let's not get distracted from our plan to capture Albus Severus Potter," he continued. "Our spies have evaluated the chance to abduct him violently; it seems unlikely that such a mission would succeed. My wand-carrying friend at Hogwarts also regards it as too risky and refuses to do it. Our best chance seems to be to lure him into a trap."

"I assume, you already have a concrete idea?" asked the chief smith, Golod.

"Yes, indeed," said Ragnuk, smirking. "And don't worry, the Resurrection Stone has a part in this plan as well."

O

Albus' Christmas hadn't been quite as nice as he had expected. After the horrific assault on the Hogwarts Express, Professor Arrington's crazy saving rescue operation and the resulting deaths of two students, he had been shocked, although he was physically alright. At the first nights after the accident, he had hardly slept. Fiendfyre was chasing him in his dreams, as were students falling out of a driving train.

Furthermore, his father had hardly been home. He had been present at the huge Christmas feast at the Burrow, though. The food had been great, and Grandma Molly had outdone herself in decorating the Burrow festively. It was a very nice distraction for Albus to see his whole family again, especially his grandparents, Molly and Arthur, and his father's godson, Teddy Lupin. Teddy, who was a Metamorphmagus and already out of Hogwarts, was doing his Auror training at the moment. He had always been like an older brother to Albus, so he was very happy to see him.

Still, the usually relaxed atmosphere had been somewhat muffled. His uncle Percy was still sorrowing for his wife Audrey, who had been killed by goblins. Uncle Bill, on the other hand, was extremely worried about the worsening relationships between wizards and goblins.

"The goblins won't accept having to abandon Gringotts just like that. It's not only a question of honour for them, but also a question of money. Macmillan's compensation will not nearly be enough in the long run."

His father, Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione were very stressed because of the Fiendfyre incident, even though they did their best not to let it show.

All that had been three days ago. Since then, every day his father had left before Albus even got up and returned late in the evening. So, when Albus climbed out of bed today and stepped into the kitchen for breakfast, he was surprised to see his father standing inside making bacon and eggs.

"Albus! Good morning! I'm off today. Sit down! Breakfast is ready in a minute."

"So you don't have to go to the Ministry today?" Albus asked.

"No, I won't. Yesterday night I had a meeting with the Minister, Ron, Hermione, Professor McGonagall and so on, but I could hardly keep my eyes open. So I basically told them to do their worst and left."

"About time you did," said Ginny sternly, though the corners of her mouth were twitching.

"Yes, about time," agreed Harry. "Albus, I wanted to congratulate you properly for getting sorted into Ravenclaw. I think it's a great house for you; I hope you are comfortable there?"

"Sure," said Albus. "Ravenclaw is nice. But the rest of the family is in Gryffindor… Why not I? What is so different with me?"

Harry only laughed. "Well, if you ask me, it was high time a Potter or a Weasley got sorted into another house than Gryffindor. As for your question, Albus, I guess, you're just cleverer than the rest of the family…"

"WHAT?" said two voices in unison. Albus' siblings, James and Lily, had come in.

James was two years older than Albus. Although he could be very unnerving, Albus was very glad to have him as a brother. Sure enough, James teased him often and was an annoyingly good flier, but when Albus needed help with anything, James would always be there for him.

Lily, on the other hand, was two years younger than Albus. Quentin and Scorpius, who were only children, were always pitying Albus for having a little sister, but Lily Luna Potter wasn't the typical 'little sister' at all. She loved music and riddles above all; at Hogwarts, Albus had more than once wished she were there, when the polite female voice at the entrance to the common room asked a particularly difficult question. Thankfully, Scorpius had usually saved him. Although she would only attend to Hogwarts in two years, Lily was already able to control her magic to a certain degree. If Albus had to designate the cleverest person in their family, it definitely would be Lily.

"You don't count, Lily, darling," said Ginny. "Daddy only meant those of us who have already been sorted."

"Sorry, James," laughed Harry. "Albus, you will have to tell me everything about your time at Hogwarts today. What are your favourite subjects? How are the teachers?"

"Oh, that's easy," beamed Albus. "My favourite subject clearly is Transfiguration, and my favourite teacher is Professor Arrington."

Harry laughed heartily. "That was a joke, right, Albus?" he quickly asked when Albus looked puzzled.

"No, not at all! Transfiguration is great! The lessons were so easy that I even did my own research. In the last week, Professor Arrington admitted that I already knew everything he covered in his lessons and agreed to give me special tutoring!"

"Wow, you're a true Ravenclaw," said Harry impressed. "I, for my part, remember that I found Transfiguration always incredibly difficult. And did I hear that right, Arrington is going to tutor you personally?"

" _Professor_  Arrington, darling," said Ginny chidingly.

"Yeah! When I told him I was already working on 'Protego', he agreed to teach me duelling, too! Professor Smethwyck would only let us fight doxies!" exclaimed Albus.

"You're already working on ' _Protego'_? Merlin's beard! Wow! That's great, Albus! Professor Arrington is really a very powerful wizard, he's well known even outside of Britain. He is the greatest Transfiguration master I know, and also incredibly skilled in Defence Against the Dark Arts. He even invented the Nullifying Spell, which is very important for us Aurors today. Yesterday, he lectured me about Fiendfyre, it was quite embarrassing. Still, sometimes he seems to be a little cold-hearted. And when I met him he never was especially - ah -  _cheerful_. But you can be very proud that he thinks so highly of you, Albus," said Harry proudly.

"But you don't like Smethwyck? He used to be a great Auror! He's cool," said James. Albus shook his head.

"I never understood, why Tyron decided to retire from the Aurors and become a teacher. He is a warrior, not a teacher. His power is magnificent; we could really need him in the Auror office," said Harry.

"The other subjects are alright," said Albus. "Charms is a bit difficult; my Sunlight Charm got a little bit out of control. I even had to write lines for Professor Flitwick, something about brandishing my wand like a baboon a stick!"

Harry chuckled. "That's one of his favourite ones; I remember Seamus had to write the same. Don't worry, Albus, I'm sure you're going to manage Charms soon enough."

"Muggle Studies is interesting, though, and Professor Botwright is really nice," continued Albus. "And Uncle Neville, of course. Which reminds me, Dad, I have seen eyes behind a bush near the greenhouses. Uncle Neville told me it was a ghoul. But I don't believe that, as I found nothing about ghouls disguising as bushes in the library. Do you know anything about that?"

"Yes, Neville told me about it," said Harry carefully. "We weren't sure what it was, so we searched the school grounds. We found nothing, though. Probably it was just a wild animal. But, boys, there seem to stray some dangerous beings near the Forbidden Forest, so please stay away from there. Especially, never go around alone at the school grounds. But there is nothing special to worry about."

"Enough of that," said Ginny, suspiciously eyeing James, whose eyes were already glinting. "Tell me, Albus, dear, how are your classmates? Have you made friends?"

"The other Ravenclaw boys are all very nice," answered Albus. "My best friends are Quentin Simiol and Scorpius Malfoy."

A shocked silence followed.

"Scorpius Malfoy? Seriously? You didn't write that in your letters," said Harry. He didn't appear to be angry, but curios.

Ginny laughed. "Oh, that's just priceless. Harry Potter's son and Draco Malfoy's son become best friends. In Ravenclaw! That's great, actually! I have to tell Luna. Although she'll probably just stare at me blankly; for her no doubt it is completely obvious. So, Scorpius is nice, Albus?"

"Oh yeah!" said Albus relieved. "He's really funny, and he always solves the riddles at the Ravenclaw common room. Besides, he is fantastic at Potions and Herbology. Neville is his favourite teacher and Neville really likes him too."

"Well, I'm glad that your friendship isn't burdened by your fathers' history," said Harry. "And Quentin Simiol," he added, frowning. "That has to be Francois Simiol's son. He used to be the French ambassador in London."

"Used to?" asked Albus. "Not anymore?"

"No," answered Harry. "He runs in France for the post of the 'President Magique'. I hope they don't elect him; he is a radical pure-blood fanatic."

"Oh," said Albus. The more he heard about Quentin's father, the less he liked him. "Quentin isn't like that. In fact, he mentioned that he is afraid of his father and relieved that he isn't home for Christmas."

"How is Rose? It was quite a surprise she got sorted into Slytherin, wasn't it?" asked Ginny.

"She's fine," said Albus. "I see her quite often, along with Phobos Nott, who is also in Slytherin and very nice. On the other hand, Leon Strelka is really nasty. He always calls us 'pure-blood-princes'. We already had a pretty fierce duel."

"You had a  _duel_  already?" asked Harry incredulously. "Do you even know how to duel? But of course," he answered the question himself, "that's why you're already working on 'Protego'."

"Well, actually it was three against three," said Albus brightly. "Quentin, Scorpius and I against Strelka, Myers and Dindane from Slytherin. I used 'Expelliarmus', 'Locomotor Mortis' and 'Petrificus Totalus'. We managed to take down Myers and Dindane, but Strelka is already able to cast a shield charm. I would have gotten him too, but Hagrid intervened."

"Merlin's beard," said Harry. "First years certainly learn fast these days."

"Harry!" said Ginny angrily.

"I - I mean, that was very wrong of you, Albus, very wrong indeed," said Harry quickly. "You really should have gotten a teacher at once. You can't just go around and jinx people, in your very first year at Hogwarts!"

"I didn't 'go around and jinx people'!" said Albus indignantly. "They started it!"

"And regarding this 'pure-blood' issue," Harry continued, as if he hadn't heard his son's protest. "Do I take it right, that this Strelka is not from a wizarding family?"

"He is muggle-born, yes. And he always taunts Rose, Phobos, Quentin, Scorpius and me for being pure-bloods."

"A muggle-born in Slytherin! That's most unusual. But listen, Albus. Being a pure-blood or being a muggle-born makes no difference at all. No one is better or worse than the other. Regardless what they tell you, always remember that," said Harry, looking Albus deep in the eye.

"I know," said Albus. "There are nice muggle-born classmates at Hogwarts too. For example Adnan Whitaker, he's in Ravenclaw as well. By the way, it was him who beat me in the Quidditch tryouts. He was James' opponent in the first match, and it was a close race. But then one of Uncle Percy's mad daughters, Lucy, knocked him off his broom. He could have died, if Professor Arrington hadn't saved him."

"That was really a dirty foul from Lucy," said James. "Adnan flew really well, I'm not sure if I could have beaten him. When he fell towards the ground, I was really afraid he could die. He was unconscious, after all."

"Don't judge too harshly about those girls," said Ginny. "Remember, they have just lost their mother."

"Yes, but they have been creepy and weird ever since I can remember," said James.

"James!"

"He's right," said Albus. "Molly still isn't able to perform simple spells, and Lucy still makes things explode when she's angry. They are just scary sometimes."

"Let's not talk about that now," said Harry. "Let's just - " He broke off, and it was completely obvious what was distracting him.

A Patronus in the silver shape of a terrier had appeared in the kitchen. It opened its mouth and spoke with Ron Weasley's voice.

"Bill was attacked. It was a goblin again, Harry. One of his enchantments alerted Bill, though, and he managed to capture the goblin, alive!"

Harry leaped to his feet. "Merlin's pants! I'm so sorry, Ginny, but I think I have no choice but…"

"It's alright, Harry. Do what you must," said Ginny.

Harry nodded, went to the fireplace and vanished in the flames.

O

When Harry arrived at the Auror Office, Ernie, Hermione, Ron, Proudfoot and Bill were already waiting for him.

"Harry," said Ernie pompously, stepping forward to shake his hand. "As it seems, the riddle about all those murders is finally solved."

"No, it isn't," said Hermione at once, glaring at Ernie. "We know hardly anything until know, after all."

"A goblin attacked me when I was on my way to Gringotts today morning," said Bill. "He came from behind; however, after Audrey's death, I always cast a goblin-detecting spell around myself when I'm out in public. I knew I'd be a possible target for them, with all my relationships to goblins. Anyway, my enchantment alerted me, so I whirled around and stunned him. Then, I immediately brought him here."

"How did he intend to kill you?" asked Harry.

"With a knife," answered Bill.

"We already investigated it, Potter, I hope that was okay," said Proudfoot. "It's goblin-made; we suspect it is the same or at least very similar to the ones used for the other murders."

"Thank you," said Harry. "Well, then, let's interrogate him, shall we?" he added impatiently.

"That's kind of the problem," said Ron. "Veritaserum isn't working at goblins, and I don't assume he will talk voluntarily. We'll try, of course, but I doubt it. We were thinking about Legilimency, but there are some difficulties there, either," he finished, with an unsure glance towards Hermione.

Hermione cleared her throat. "In principal, Legilimency should work at goblins too, of course," she said. "We know, however, that a goblin's mind is somewhat different from a human's. Therefore, it won't be easy at all to extract the important information out of his mind. Always provided, of course, that he is no Occlumens."

"Very well," said Harry, frowning. "I suppose Ron and I will talk to him firstly. If he doesn't say anything, we will try it with the Legilimency. I can do it myself, or you do it, Proudfoot. Unless there is someone at the Ministry who has experience reading a goblin's mind, of course."

"Hardly," chuckled Ron. "But okay. Let's go, he's already in Interrogation Room 1."

Harry followed him into the room, whereas Ernie, Hermione, Proudfoot and Bill were watching from outside, through the glass.

The room was completely white. In the middle was a white table with three white chairs. On one of them sat a grim-looking goblin. Harry and Ron took the other two chairs.

"Please tell us your full name," said Harry.

"My name is Grubok," said the goblin.

"Profession?"

"I was a guard at Gringotts, until the Ministry decided - " he pursed his lips - "to illegally  _sack_  Gringotts."

"What have you been doing since then?"

"I have been searching for work," said Grubok. "Not easy to find, though, after your anti-goblin campaign."

"And you finally got hired by a bounty hunter, or what?" asked Ron.

"No," snapped the goblin.

"You tried to kill Bill Weasley," stated Harry. He kept his voice calm, but he was boiling inside. This goblin and his accomplices were murdering his family, and Grubok had the nerve to just sit there as if they just met for tea? "Why?"

"Because someone had to do it," said Grubok. "He is one of those wand-carriers who stole my job."

"Who is your principal?" asked Harry.

"I have no principal," said Grubok calmly.

Harry threw him an annoyed look. "Listen," he said. "There have been seven kills with goblin-made knifes like yours. Seven. And you want to tell me that this were all the deeds of single perpetrators?"

"No," said Grubok. "I can't speak for the others, I don't know about them."

Without warning, Harry drew his wand, aimed at the goblin and shouted, " _Legilimens!_ "

Suddenly, memories were flooding through his brain. Tediously, he tried to array his mind and delve specifically into the goblin's. Grubok tried to resist Harry's invasion, but it was obvious that he was no skilled Occlumens, so he couldn't stop him.

The goblin's memories were quite confusing. Although he considered himself to be quite a skilled Legilimens by now, Harry recognized that big pieces were missing, whereas others continued to come to the surface. In the mess, he tried to find indications about Bill and the attempted murder. He skipped the Gringotts memories and concentrated on another picture that returned quite often. He frowned and watched it, highly focused. There was a man. He and Grubok seemed to be standing opposite, Grubok showed the man his knife. And the man said a name… 'Bill Weasley'. Again and again, 'Bill Weasley'.

The memory changed, and Harry interrupted the connection. He was very upset.

"Francois Simiol," he said quietly.

"What?" blurted Ron.

"It was Francois Simiol," Harry repeated, still disbelievingly. "He was the mastermind behind this attempted murder. Is that true, goblin?"

"Maybe. You seem to be sure enough of it, anyway," said Grubok, who appeared somewhat exhausted. Harry wasn't surprised at this, remembering his own Occlumency lessons with Snape.

Harry thoughtfully left the white room; Ron followed, with a bewildered expression on his face.

"Proudfoot, please take a look as well. We have to be absolutely sure," said Harry to his experienced Auror colleague.

Proudfoot entered the room and cast the Legilimency Spell on Grubok as well. After a few minutes, he returned.

"There is no doubt, I'm afraid," he said. "Francois Simiol gave the order to kill Bill Weasley."

 


	8. King's Cross

"This is just unbelievable," said Harry. "Why on earth would Francois Simiol want to kill Bill? Simiol is running an election campaign in France. To be honest, I can see no connection at all."

"We all know that Simiol is a radical pure-blood fanatic," said Hermione. "In France, he stirs up hatred against our 'muggle-friendly' government. Still, this is by no means a concrete reason to order a goblin to murder Bill."

"Probably he wanted us to think the goblins are behind everything. That's why he chose Bill as target, with all his connections to goblins," said Ron.

"But why even kill anyone in the first place? What is his motive? All he should care about right now is his reputation, with an election campaign running. Or did he fear that  _Bill_  could be a danger to his ambitions? And which role do the goblins play in this game? It makes just no sense," said Harry.

Ernie banged his fist on the table. "We have to react in full determination. We will inform the Wizarding community that the candidate for the 'President Magique', Francois Simiol, was behind the attempted murder of Bill Weasley. Furthermore, we have to assume he has a connection to all the other assaults as well, to say the least. And of course we have to warn the wizarding community against any contact with goblins, who seem to be making their bread by assassinating people now."

"Slow down, Ernie," said Hermione desperately. "Is there absolutely no possibility that we misinterpreted the memory?" she asked towards Harry.

"Proudfoot and I are as sure as we can be," responded Harry. "There can be no absolute certainty, as we don't know enough about the goblin mind. The memory is clear enough, however; we reinvestigated it more than once and there is not much room for interpretation."

"I'll speak to Davies, about the press release," said Ernie and was already getting up, when Hermione shouted, "Wait!"

Ernie hesitated.

"Thinking strategically, it would be much better to talk to Simiol personally before," said Hermione. "We could threaten him with a press release, if he doesn't tell us his motifs. Besides, he wouldn't be able to blame us for attacking him in the public instead of speaking to him in person."

"And if he tells us his motifs, we're going to Fudge things up and keep the secret? He could just lie. Besides, he's a danger for the public," said Harry disbelievingly.

"Of course," said Ron at once. "We'll still tell everyone. But Hermione is right. We should really have a talk with Simiol."

"And how are we going to do it?" asked Ernie doubtfully. "I can hardly ask him to tea in the Ministry. And I won't go to France; that much is for sure. As a muggle-hater, he won't know what a telephone is, either. Besides, only a face-to-face conversation makes sense anyway, to see his spontaneous reaction."

"I have an idea," said Harry. "My son, Albus, knows Simiol's son; they are friends at Hogwarts. I will just send Simiol a letter, indicating our suspicions and asking him to be at King's Cross at the departure of the Hogwarts Express. Ron, Hermione and I can talk to him there, it would be quite unobtrusive."

"The Hogwarts Express?" asked Hermione. "So you have executed Arrington's catalogue of claims?"

"Yes, and more," said Ron. "It could be used as a tank in muggle wars now. It even has some enchantments against Fiendfyre. Although, I must say, it looks kind of ugly now. Besides, we'll be monitoring the whole route."

"Very well," said Ernie reluctantly. "For me this issue is settled, then. Harry please arrange this meeting with Simiol. I won't be there."

"I wonder what he'll say," chuckled Ron. "Probably just 'fuck off'!"

O

Actually, Albus was happy that the holiday was over. Sure, it had been nice to be with his family for two weeks, but now he was just excited to get back to Hogwarts. He was especially looking forward to the special lessons with Professor Arrington; Albus' admiration for the Transfiguration teacher had even increased after the…

The train ride. Albus hadn't forgotten about it. He was still shaken by the deaths of two students, even though he hadn't really known them personally. Besides, he was anxious about the ride back to Hogwarts. What if the cloaked person was planning another assault? Sure enough, his father had assured him the train would be absolutely safe. Plenty of enchantments had been placed on it, even against Fiendfyre. Not only Professor Arrington, but also a bunch of Aurors would be on the train, and the tracks would be monitored. Still, there remained a feeling of uncertainty.

"I hope you're done with packing, we're leaving in half an hour," said Ginny. "We'll meet your father at King's cross; he is taking care of the security measures at the station. Besides, he wants to talk to Mr Simiol, Quentin's father."

"He wants to talk with Quentin's father?" echoed Albus. "Why?"

"Oh, just something political. Nothing about you kids, don't worry," said Ginny.

"How do we get there, without Dad?" asked James.

"Do you think your mother is incapable of driving the car?" snapped Ginny.

Albus laughed inwardly. His brother really had a talent of accidentally asking dangerous questions.

An hour later, after an uneventful car ride, they ran through the barrier to Platform Nine and Three Quarters and stood in front of a huge train. It didn't look like the Hogwarts Express at all, however. It wasn't red anymore, but armoured with matt, black metal. It seemed kind of bigger than before, as well. Where there had been windows before, were now black emergency doors. It looked quite intimidating.

"Albus!" cried an excited voice. Scorpius Malfoy was running towards him, followed by a breathtakingly beautiful woman, who was dragging her husband along behind her. "Scorpius! It's great to see you! What was your holiday like?" asked Albus.

"It was great! We went skiing, in Austria! We - oh, Mum, Dad, this is my friend Albus Potter," he added hastily, when the beautiful woman cleared her throat.

"It's wonderful to meet you at last," she said, smiling. "Scorpius has told us so much about you. I am Astoria Malfoy, Scorpius' mother."

"Draco Malfoy. It's a pleasure to meet you," said the blonde man sincerely. Albus shook Mr and Mrs Malfoy's hands, when his father appeared next to them.

"Albus! Sorry I couldn't make it earlier, I was quite busy - oh, hello Draco, Mrs Malfoy."

Draco Malfoy nodded curtly, whereas Astoria beamed and said, "Hello, Mr Potter. Scorpius just introduced us your son, Albus. He's just the nicest boy."

Harry smiled. "Yes - thank you - excuse me, I see Francois Simiol over there, I wanted to have a little chat with him as well. Good day to you, Mrs Malfoy; Scorpius, I wish you a nice term. I'll be back in a minute, Albus." With this, he hurried over to a very tall man with short, brown hair. He was wearing a precious, velvet black cloak. Next to him was a short, fat blonde woman with oily hair and Quentin, who looked a bit frightened. Albus hesitated, then he followed his father.

Quentin recognized him and slightly winked at him. His father noticed it.

"Whom are you winking there, boy?" he asked sharply. "Isn't this the Potter brat? Does this maybe mean you're even  _friends_? You told me you were friends with Malfoy's boy!" he hissed.

"I - we are in the same house," said Quentin timidly.

"Francois Simiol. I'd like a word with you," interrupted Harry sharply.

Mr Simiol looked down at him, as if he had just noticed him for the first time. "And Potter senior. I assume you have a very good reason for dragging me to a British train station?"

"Your son takes the train to Hogwarts, so I assumed that would be enough of a reason," responded Harry, frowning. "Obviously I was wrong there. Anyway, I wanted a quick word with you, Francois. In private. Do you mind?" he asked, pointing towards a toilet.

Simiol's eyes narrowed. "Very well," he spat. "Quentin, you stay away from those muggle-lovers, as I shouldn't have to tell you. And if it somehow reaches my ear that you didn't obey me, you'll wish you were never born, boy."

With this, he followed Harry to the toilet and vanished out of sight. Quentin gave Albus a pleading look, who nodded and ran back to his mother.

O

"Do you know a goblin called Grubok?" asked Harry without preamble.

"What's that supposed to be, Potter, an interrogation?" snarled Simiol. "I have never heard that name, anyway."

"Grubok tried to kill Bill Weasley. Do you know who ordered him to do so?" asked Harry.

"Why don't you just tell me, Potter?"

"It was you, Francois. We used Legilimency on Grubok. We know the truth, and we will tell the public. Unless, of course, you tell us about your motifs. Why do you want to murder Bill Weasley?"

"Ridiculous! I have no idea what you're talking about," snapped Simiol. "How dare you make such allegations? I have most certainly not given such an order!"

Harry didn't believe him for a second. "Are you behind all those other murders, too? What is the purpose of this madness, Francois, if I may ask?"

"Enough," said Simiol. "I'm going now. I understand that you don't want me to become President Magique, but even I would never have thought, Potter, that you would resort to such means. You are on dangerous territory, Potter. Don't try to interfere in our election, or I guarantee you that you'll regret it."

"Is that a threat, Francois?" said Harry loudly.

Simiol only snorted and left the toilet. Harry followed him musingly. He couldn't just arrest Simiol on the spot, as a mere memory wasn't enough of a proof, especially not a goblin's. However, he was absolutely sure that Simiol was guilty, judging by his reaction.

A loud, metallic sound from the huge, black train jolted him out of his thoughts. He had only five more minutes to say goodbye to his sons. Looking around, he found his family still standing with the Malfoys. Albus was animatedly chatting with Scorpius, whereas Ginny, Astoria and even Draco seemed to have a friendly conversation. James was nowhere to be seen, probably he was already meeting his own friends.

"Time to board the train," Ginny was saying, when Harry hurried towards them. "I wish you a great rest of term, Albus. Stay safe, and please write us."

"Bye, Albus," said Harry, hugging his younger son. "Enjoy your time at Hogwarts. Don't prowl around at the grounds. And keep your friendship with Quentin, regardless what his father is saying."

"I will," said Albus, giving his mother a final hug, before hurrying onto the train.

O

The train ride was extremely boring. According to Scorpius, this was only fair, keeping in mind the excitement at the last one. But without windows to look outside, time was progressing really slowly. Quentin was sitting in a compartment with them, but he was very silent. Albus knew that the dialogue with his father bothered his friend, and didn't pressure him. Rose and Phobos were discussing theories about the identity of the mysterious Fiendfyre-caster, but none of them seemed especially likely. Albus mainly listened to Scorpius' enthusiastic report about his skiing holiday. At last, they arrived at Hogwarts safely without any further incident.

Late in the evening, Albus finally got the chance to speak to Quentin in private.

"What are you going to do now, Quentin?" he quietly asked his friend, while they were sitting in the Ravenclaw common room, watching the stars through one of the huge windows.

There was a long silence, and Albus already thought he wouldn't get an answer, when Quentin sighed, "you are my friend, Albus, and nothing my father says will change it. I don't know, though, what I'm going to do if he gets wind of this…" He shuddered. "My father can be really terrible, you know… Anyway, I'll go to bed now."

"He won't hear of it, Quentin," called Albus. "Don't worry."

Quentin nodded sadly, and went into their dormitory. Albus followed him; he had to be fit tomorrow. Not only because of the regular classes, but especially for his first personal lesson with Professor Arrington tomorrow in the evening.

O

"So, after all, Simiol was denying all accusations," finished Harry. He had just filled Ron, Hermione, Proudfoot, Ernie and Percy in about his conversation with Francois Simiol at King's Cross.

"Besides, he threatened me, in case we intervene in his election campaign. Concretely, he said I would 'regret' it," he added.

"Preposterous! We cannot tolerate this bold demeanour!" shouted Percy. "We will inform the public and send a request to the French Ministry to extradite Simiol!"

Hermione groaned. "How often have I told you, Percy? According to our laws, a memory isn't enough to arrest a person. We have no proof whatsoever that the memory is accurate, that we correctly interpreted it and that it wasn't meddled with. Against this background, it seems doubtful if we should even release a public statement. We may be wrong about this, after all, and we would be rightfully accused of slander. It's all a mystery," she added, sighing. "Which role are the goblins playing in all this? And who killed Firenze? What has this Fiendfyre person to do with it? After all, we know almost nothing."

"Still, the likelihood that Simiol is at least behind the recent incident is very high," said Proudfoot. "The memory was crystal-clear."

"Harry!" shouted a voice behind them. Harry's godson, Teddy Lupin, burst into the conference room. His hair had his favourite colour, turquoise. He had a newspaper in his hand. Almost having finished his Auror training, he was one of the very few persons who knew about the Simiol-issue.

"Lupin, that's not quite the moment -" began Percy angrily, but Harry interrupted him.

"What's the matter, Teddy?" he asked calmly.

"You don't need to discuss any more if you tell the public or not," said Teddy. "Simiol has just done it himself."

"What?" said Harry, confused.

Teddy threw Harry his newspaper. "Francois Simiol gave a press conference," he said.

"'Yesterday, Harry Potter once again confirmed all my reservations against the muggle-friendly British Ministry of Magic. Apparently, a goblin had tried to murder Potter's brother-in-law Bill Weasley. While I condemn this despicable assault utterly, I was extremely surprised when Potter dragged me into a toilet at the station King's Cross, where I was just saying goodbye to my son, who took the train to Hogwarts. Potter then accused me to be behind this assault. According to him, it was I who ordered the goblin to kill Mr Weasley. He then threatened me to tell the press about this, to discredit my election campaign. I'm sure you will agree with me, that this is just another heinous attempt by the false British muggle-lovers to influence our free election. However, you will be pleased to hear, that as President Magique I will occupy a much more strict position against those blood-traitors. Your Francois Simiol stays a stronghold of our wizarding world, a stronghold against the lies and Fake News of muggle-borns and blood traitors, a stronghold of our democracy!'" Harry read loudly.

He looked up from the newspaper. "Great. Now we stand there like idiots. No one is going to believe us after that, and my reputation is in the toilet, at least in France."

"Give him his due, he is a brilliant politician," said Hermione. "He completely outmanoeuvred us. Now his campaign will get a boost, and we are disgraced."

Ernie groaned. "This is a blow," he sighed. "He most probably ordered a murder, and we can't do anything about it. He really makes us look like schoolboys."

"It's my fault," sighed Harry. "I'm sorry, Ernie. It was stupid and unprofessional to question him at King's Cross."

"I must say, it was indeed very irresponsible, Harry," said Percy importantly. "The Department of International Magical Cooperation should have settled the matter. Instead, we weren't even consulted. This outrageous solo action -"

"Shut up, Percy. Don't worry, Harry, we have to stand together now and think about what to do next," said Ernie.

"We can't just do nothing," said Ron. "At the very least, we should send an Auror to France, to monitor his activities."

Harry sighed. "You know, of course, that without the consent of the French President, this is highly illegal? And extremely risky, I should add?"

"It's necessary," shouted Percy. "He might order more kills! Our safety is threatened, measures have to be taken!"

"I'll do it," chimed in Teddy. "I'm a Metamorphmagus, and no one in France knows me anyway. Besides, I have good relationships there through my girlfriend, Victoire, and her mother, Fleur. It so happens that this is Bill's family, after all. You see, everything fits together. It would practically be no official mission for the Ministry, after all, but only a personal measure."

Harry slapped his forehead. "Of course! Why haven't we thought about that? Bill's wife is French! This might be a motive, after all. Although I don't see, how Fleur or Victoire could be involved into all this."

"No idea," said Teddy. "But I will find out, if you let me go to France."

Harry hesitated. His godson made a good point, but Harry was reluctant to send him into danger alone, not even having completed his Auror training.

"Most certainly not!" shouted Percy. "As Head of the Compartment of International Magical Cooperation, I forbid it! This is important, Lupin, it has to be done by an expert. My brother was almost killed, this is not a playground for beginners like you -"

"Careful, Percy," interrupted Harry angrily. He thought very highly of his godson and didn't like the sound of Percy's derogatory criticism. Teddy was an extremely talented young wizard, after all; not only Harry was sure he would become a very fine Auror. "Whom we send on which mission isn't your business. It's only the business of the Auror office. Besides, Teddy is no beginner." He paused briefly.

"We will - think about it, Teddy. I'll tell you tomorrow. We cannot decide hastily now. The situation is most delicate," he said finally.

The young Auror nodded. "Thank you, Harry," he said and left the room.

Harry sighed. "Can we risk it? I know that Teddy isn't even a fully trained Auror -"

"That alone should be reason enough -" began Percy.

"If you would please let me finish a sentence, Percy," said Harry warningly. "In principle, he is more than capable of doing it, but sending him alone on such a dangerous mission… I love him like a son, after all," he continued.

"Come off it, Harry, you can't wrap him in cotton wool forever," said Ron. "To me, this mission doesn't feel especially dangerous. He's not really hunting Dark Wizards, after all, only spying a bit on a politician."

"Well, Simiol is a person not to be trifled with," said Hermione. "But I agree with Ron, Teddy is ideally suited for this mission. The final decision is up to you, Harry, but I think we should send him there. He is certainly responsible and intelligent enough not to place himself in unnecessary danger."

"Don't you realize that my brother was almost  _killed_?" shrieked Percy. "My wife is already dead! And you want to send a  _boy_ , who is not only a novice, but also a slacker, a freak -"

"Shut up!" shouted Harry. He was boiling with rage. The last time he had felt this way, had been shortly before he had blown up his Aunt Marge many years ago. "You have no idea, Percy! Teddy is a wonderful young man! The only reason you don't like him, is the colour of his hair! If you insult him once again, then you'll have me to be contend with!"

Percy's face was red with anger. He just wanted to answer furiously, when Ernie banged his fist on the table.

"Enough. How dare you both to lose your composure like that in an official meeting? Percy, don't insult young Mr Lupin. Harry, calm down. Teddy will go on this mission; his training is practically completed and this is the ideal opportunity for him to prove himself. As a Metamorphmagus, he is ideally suited for this task. It's not incredibly dangerous, and I have complete confidence in him. I don't want to hear any backtalk," he said sharply.

Percy looked still angry, but remained silent.

Harry took a deep breath. "Okay. You're right, Ernie. Then we should prepare everything as fast as possible. Let's go, Ron, Peter, and speak about the details of the mission with Teddy. He will be delighted…"

"Wait a minute," said Hermione. "We still have to decide how to answer publicly on Simiol's press conference."

"We tell them the truth," said Ernie. "There is no choice."

"You know, of course, that many won't believe us, after Simiol's press conference?" asked Hermione.

"Sure, but as Ernie said, there is no choice," said Harry. "There were enough witnesses on the station who saw me and Simiol go into the toilet, so we can't just deny everything. I can't see an alternative to the truth."

"Very well," said Ernie. "I will prepare a press release. We have an excellent reputation; I think that many people will still believe us and be sceptical about Simiol's integrity. Maybe this will damage his campaign severely. It would be a disaster for our British-French relationships if he became President Magique."

Hermione snorted and shook her head. "Maybe in Britain people will believe us," she said. "But in France most certainly not. The amount of pure-bloods is much higher there, and many share Simiol's resentments against muggle-borns."

"That is not our business," said Ron firmly. "All we should care about is our British magical community. Let's go now, Harry, Peter, and speak about the mission with Teddy."

Harry and Proudfoot nodded and followed Ron out of the conference room.

"I'm worried about Percy," said Ron while they were walking. "He isn't the same since Audrey is dead. He is irascible, aggressive, and irrational. I mean, of course I understand that her death was a big blow for him, but he's in this state now for months. According to Rose, his daughters are also mentally quite unstable. I'm really anxious about where this is going."

"It wouldn't be that fatal if he wasn't in such a high position," said Harry. "In this state, he is absolutely not capable of being the Head of an important Department. I would talk to Ernie about suspending him temporarily, but in that case, I'm afraid, he would finally lose his mind."

"Please don't be cross with me, but it turns out to be a problem that you are all related to each other," said Proudfoot. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not questioning your qualification at all. But you two, Hermione Weasley, Percy Weasley, now Teddy - you are all occupying very influential positions. If you start valuing your personal feelings or worries higher than the Ministry's good, then the situation might become dangerous. I mean no offense, though," he added politely.

"None taken, Peter. You may have a point there," said Harry thoughtfully. "I will talk to Hermione about this."

"I can't see the problem," said Ron. "It's Ernie who is the Minister, after all. But anyway, now we have to concentrate on Teddy's mission."

" _My_  mission?" asked Teddy, who looked up from his desk when Harry, Ron and Proudfoot came inside.

"Yes, Teddy, your mission," said Harry. "Percy doesn't agree with it, but the Minister and I have complete confidence in your abilities."

Teddy beamed. He became serious again very quickly, though. "I won't disappoint you, Harry," he said earnestly.

Harry smiled at his godson. "I know you won't," he said. "Now let's start planning your mission. There is much to talk about."

 


	9. Suicide

Albus enjoyed being back at Hogwarts. At last doing magic again was a very satisfying feeling, so Albus even took a lot of delight in playing Professor Smethwyck's puck-pushing game at the first lesson of the day. His "duel" with Rose were very exhausting, though; both concentrated deeply to push the puck towards the opponent, but neither of them succeeded in moving it significantly. In the end, they agreed to a draw.

The only other student who was actually a challenge to Albus was Leon Strelka. Minutes passed, but no one managed to push the puck towards the other. Albus' head was starting to pound, but submitting or offering a draw wasn't an alternative here. Albus screwed up his eyes in pain, but put even more effort into the task. Strelka was looking similarly strained. Everyone was watching their "duel" now. Next to Albus, Scorpius whispered something. Suddenly, the puck raised in the air, moved towards Strelka and sharply hit his nose.

"MALFOY!" shouted Professor Smethwyck. "Detention, Malfoy. Today in the evening, my office. How dare you interrupt such an instructive duel in such a rude way? Twenty points from Ravenclaw."

"But, Sir," protested Scorpius. "They were going to pass out, something had to be done!"

"That's actually the idea of this duelling training, Malfoy, to push the envelope! You are lazy and sinister, Malfoy, just like your whole family. Ill weeds grow apace, don't they! Thankfully, you will become a really poor duellist," spat Smethwyck.

Scorpius looked taken aback by this and remained silent.

"Homework," said Smethwyck in a bored voice, "read the next three chapters of your book and write a summary, three feet until next week. Class dismissed."

"You really shouldn't have done that," said Albus to Scorpius, when they were walking to the muggle studies classroom. "You know that Smethwyck hates it when you interrupt his stupid game."

"But Albus, you were really looking as if you passed out any moment," said Scorpius. "You could have hurt yourself. Besides, I didn't think that anyone would notice. I only whispered the incantation."

"Smethwyck was really unfair, though," said Quentin. "In fact, he insulted your family! You should tell Professor Flitwick about it, or Professor Arrington."

"Yeah, you're right," agreed Albus. "We have Transfiguration later, then we can tell Professor Arrington."

Scorpius looked somewhat reluctant, but didn't argue.

Muggle studies was interesting as usual. "Muggles have invented many extremely useful technologies, really extremely useful. In some ways they are ahead of us wizards and witches. Take, for example, planes. I'm sure, all of you have seen some flying high over you heads at the sky. They can stay in the air without magic! And, mind you, they are much faster, bigger and more comfortable than brooms. Muggles can travel long distances in a relatively short time. There are lots of other examples of great muggle technologies, some of which we'll discuss in this class," said Professor Botwright.

Albus listened, fascinated. One thing he didn't understand, though, so he raised his hand.

"Yes, Albus, my dear?"

"Why don't wizards use more of the muggles' inventions, or extend them magically?"

Professor Botwright smiled at him. "Well, some of them we do use sometimes, for example cars. Some of them are just unnecessary, because we can do their purpose magically. But you're right, of course, we could achieve many great things if we copied some muggle ideas. Unfortunately, our magical world is somewhat unprogressive and traditional. Muggle inventions are often laughed at. And the overwhelming majority of wizards and witches completely lacks the muggles' spirit of research. Just look at the internet. At least the muggle-borns among you will know what I mean. It's a digital network, which contains almost all of the muggles' knowledge. They don't have to look anything up at books anymore, they just ask the network. Just imagine, how useful such a network would be for your homework!"

Professor Botwright's words surely didn't fail to have the desired effect. When the lesson was over, the whole class was chatting about the internet and how useful a magical version could be for their schoolwork. The discussion was still well underway, when they reached the Transfiguration classroom.

Professor Arrington seemed a bit surprised about their animation. "Usually you aren't that excited, when you enter my classroom," he said, smirking. "Though I have a feeling that it might have another reason than my fascinating lesson."

Some students laughed.

"Anyway, experience has shown that two weeks of Christmas break are long enough for First-years to forget half of the things they have learned so far. Thus, we'll cover nothing new today. In front of you are some objects you have already transformed before Christmas; please try to remember and transform them for me."

Albus suppressed a groan. This was going to be an extremely boring lesson. Quickly, he transformed his objects and tried to help Scorpius for the rest of the lesson, who was still struggling a bit with Transfiguration.

When it was finally over, Albus, Quentin and Scorpius stayed behind to tell Professor Arrington about the incident in Defence Against the Dark Arts. The Transfiguration Master heard them out, his piercing blue eyes lingering on Scorpius. When they had finished, he sighed.

"You're right, Mr Simiol. It's really unacceptable. I'm sorry, Scorpius, very sorry, but I'm afraid it won't be the last time you will have to face prejudices against you because of your family. Still, it's not fair, and it certainly cannot come from a teacher. That's absolutely not okay. I will speak to Professor Smethwyck; I guarantee you it won't happen again. Of course, I can't do anything against your detention," he added quickly.

Scorpius nodded. "Thank you, Sir," he said.

Professor Arrington nodded. "I'll see you later, Albus," he said. "And Scorpius - I know your father. I got acquainted with him after the war. I know he is a fine person now, regardless of his past. But either way, I'm sure you will build up your own reputation."

O

"They took our bait," said Gorniak. "The memory your wand-carrying friend implanted in Grubok's head must have been really convincing. The Ministry of Magic believes that Francois Simiol is behind the assault. They even sent the Metamorphmagus Teddy Lupin to France, as our spies at the Ministry report."

"Excellent! A war between Britain and France would come very handy. In due course we will give Simiol a hint about Lupin spying on him, so the conflict escalates further," said Ragnuk. "Urguk, what did you tell the press?"

"I repudiated the assault in the strongest terms. According to my statement, Grubok was a radical goblin who wasn't under our control. Besides, I offered the Ministry help and held out the prospect of a cooperation. Nicely vague, though, so they won't actually accept it," said Urguk.

"Very good," said Ragnuk. "My wand-carrying friend and the centaurs are still protecting our agents in the Forbidden Forest from being detected by snooping Aurors. Then we can concentrate on our plan to capture Albus Severus Potter. Soon, it will be done; our wand-carrying ally at Hogwarts already cast a little Imperius Curse, to prepare everything."

O

When Albus approached Professor Arrington's classroom, he heard loud voices from inside.

"… absolutely disgusting!" said Professor Arrington. "The young Mr Malfoy hasn't done anything, how dare you insult him because of his family! We are examples for our students, Tyron, so you should remember to  _act_  this way!"

"Enough," growled Smethwyck. "Just shut it, Aaron. I have no time for such childish arguments; I must go to my office now, Malfoy is waiting for his detention."

He turned to leave and saw Albus appearing at the door.

"Potter!" he snarled. "Are you spying on your teachers now? You -"

"Albus has an appointment with me," said Professor Arrington calmly. "You may leave now, Tyron."

Smethwyck snorted and rushed out of the classroom.

"Good evening, Sir," said Albus timidly.

Professor Arrington's face softened. "Good evening, Albus," he said, smiling. "Welcome to your first  _challenging_  lesson in Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Please sit down," he added, pointing towards a chair opposite to his own. "Before we start, do you have any questions, anything pressing your mind?"

"Yes," said Albus, taking his seat. "How did you shatter all the windows at the Hogwarts Express?"

"Oh," said Professor Arrington, surprised. "I produced a sound, you know, a very high sound, as I'm sure you heard. That sound had just the right frequency for the windows to get in vibration and finally shatter. I don't know if this solution was especially elegant or so, but in that hurry it was the first idea that came to my mind. Currently, I'm doing some research on the connection of magic and music; that helped me a great deal there."

"Magic and  _music_?" asked Albus disbelievingly. "Are you saying that you can do magic by just doing  _music_?"

"Yes," said Professor Arrington. "There are certainly unmistakeable indications in that direction. I'm not sure, however, to which extent this can be utilized; of course, you wouldn't want just uncontrollable magical outbursts. This is more about Charms, though, so I'll consult Professor Flitwick's opinion about this; I'm not really an expert in this metier."

"What are you going to teach me?" asked Albus eagerly.

"You certainly get straight to the point, don't you?" said Professor Arrington. "Well, first I will teach you the basic concepts of Transfiguration and Duelling. Well, this might be ambiguous, I guess; when I say 'basic concepts', I mean everything until your OWLs in the fifth year."

"How long will that take?" asked Albus, who had already been hoping for a lot more than "basic concepts".

"This mostly depends on you," answered Professor Arrington. "And on how often we are going to meet. Assumed, I teach you two lessons a week, considering your astonishing talent and motivation for these subjects, I would say - not more than two years. But this is only an estimate and could as well be completely wrong. We'll see."

"And then?"

" _Then_? You are in your first year, and 'everything until OWL-level' isn't satisfying you? Maybe it won't take two years after all… Well, Albus,  _then_  pretty much anything is possible. I could help you develop your own duelling style, help you become a master duellist. I could teach you wandless magic. I could show you my research on Transfiguration, for example on the fifth variable in the formula. I could teach you to become an Animagus. We could invent new spells together. Or we could do some original research on the essence of magic. This should be enough for motivation, I hope?"

Albus was enthusiastic. "Yeah, that sounds great!"

"But be warned, I won't go easy on you. These lessons will be challenging, Albus, and they will be hard. You'll see. But enough talking. Let's start. Are you ready?"

"I'm ready," said Albus at once.

"Okay. I want to begin with Transfiguration, later it will become clear, why. Surely, you have recognized that we have used different incantations for every transformation so far. Those incantations are object-specific. For example, if you want to transform something in a needle, the incantation is always ' _Acus verto_ '. Now, there are such incantations for every object you can imagine. Not to mention animals. Can you see the problem?"

"Er… there are so many objects or animals that you can't remember the incantation for each one?" said Albus.

"Exactly! Of course, there are encyclopaedias, so you can look it up. But even I don't know the specific incantation for every single object in the world. The good news is, it isn't necessary at all. There are more general incantations you can use for almost everything. With ordinary objects, this is especially easy: The general incantation for all of them is ' _Res verto_ '."

" _Res verto_ ," repeated Albus.

"Yes," confirmed Professor Arrington. "Knowing only this incantation, you can transform practically any object into any object. On the other hand, using ' _Res verto'_ is more difficult than the specific incantations. That's why I didn't mention it in class yet. Can you imagine, which variable in our formula is influenced?"

Albus thought about it. The bodyweight remained constant, that much was for sure. His wand power wouldn't change, either. Concentration was usually independent from the incantation. That left…

"Viciousness," said Albus.

"Correct. Not using the specific incantation increases the viciousness of your Transformation. To reach the same overall power, you have to compensate it somehow."

"With my concentration," said Albus at once.

"Yes. A better concentration can compensate viciousness to a certain degree. In our case, it's certainly manageable, as we aren't using  _any_ random incantation, after all, but still one that is excellently suited for transfiguring objects. But some spells that already require a very high amount of concentration can be a real challenge, if you use general incantations. A few of them are even impossible to cast under this circumstance. In such a case, it's still important to know the specific incantation."

Albus nodded. So far, he had understood everything.

"Alright. Now you've got the theory, let's see if you put it into practice," said Professor Arrington. He flicked his wand, and a matchstick appeared on the desk in front of Albus. "Transform it into a needle, using ' _Res verto'_ , obviously."

Albus pointed his wand at the matchstick and concentrated. " _Res verto_!"

The magic flowed out of his wand, and in front of him lay a perfect needle.

"Very good, really. I never had a student before, who managed to use that spell that cleanly at his first try, certainly not a first year. You should practice this alone, with bigger objects. That's also what you'll be doing at class, when the others are using the specific incantation. For now, you have understood the principle. Next lesson we'll try transformations with animals, in case you already want to do some additional reading on that. Today, I would like to start with some duelling instructions, if you're up to it," said Professor Arrington.

"Of course!" said Albus eagerly.

"Very well," said Professor Arrington. "To start off with, duelling is in my view no sport. Not at all. Thus, I won't bother to teach you all this nonsense with bowing, wands at the ready and so on. You duel if there is a fight, not for fun. The whole idea is to incapacitate your opponent, am I understood?"

"Yes, Sir," said Albus quickly.

"If I fired a spell at you, without warning, what would you do?"

"I would cast a Shield Charm, to block it," said Albus.

With lightning speed, Professor Arrington drew his wand and shouted " _Impedimenta_!"

The spell struck Albus, who hadn't been able to react, at full tilt, so that his was immobilized at once.

" _Finite_ ," said Professor Arrington lazily, and Albus could move again. "Then why didn't you actually  _do_  it?"

"I - I had no time, I didn't expect it," spluttered Albus.

"That's just like it will be in a real fight. Your opponent won't warn you before he curses you. The most duels are decided that way, Albus. It's not about magical power, regardless of what Smethwyck says, but about speed. Now draw your wand. Let's try again.  _Expelliarmus_ ," he shouted.

" _Protego_ ," ejaculated Albus, and a flickering shield appeared in front of him. Professor Arrington's Disarming Charm crushed right through it, though, and hit Albus at the chest. His wand flew out of his hand and was caught by Professor Arrington.

"That was not bad, but as you see, your shield didn't stop my spell," he said, passing the wand back to Albus, who stared incredulously. He had practiced the Shield Charm for so long, and now Professor Arrington crushed it with a simple "Expelliarmus"?

"Of course we will work on your magical barriers, so your shield will soon be much stronger," Professor Arrington continued. "But a skilled attacker can break through it, at the very least by casting an Unforgivable Curse. ' _Protego_ ' is pretty useless then. There are some other magical barriers you could conjure, but all of them can be broken eventually, so you certainly shouldn't rely on it. No, the first instinct you should have when I fire a spell at you, is to get out of the way."

Albus felt somewhat disappointed by this, and Professor Arrington seemed to notice this, as he continued, "look, Albus. In general, there are two choices when an enemy spell is coming towards you: dodge it or defend magically. The more skilled you are, the more often you will try to defend against it, and we'll get to that soon. Sometimes, however, for example if you lost your wand or if there are several spells approaching, you simply need to dodge. Not too long ago, even many Aurors didn't realize that. Sure, some of them, like Professor Smethwyck, were so powerful spellcasters that they usually didn't have to dodge anything. When your father became Head Auror, however, things changed there as well. Agility is a very important factor in modern duelling. At this point of your career, it's certainly a good idea to learn how to avoid being hit by a curse, so we'll focus on that today. I will try to disarm you, and you have to dodge the spell.  _Expelliarmus_!"

Without warning, Professor Arrington fired a spell at him, and Albus leaped out of the way. He landed ruggedly on the floor. When he started to bob up, he was struck by a second spell that disarmed him again.

"Your reactions are not as bad as they could be, but they're still not good enough, I'm afraid," said Professor Arrington drily. "Your mistake is that you only react when you hear me shout the incantation. You have to look at my hand. You know the wand movement for ' _Expelliarmus_ '; use this knowledge to anticipate my spell!"

Again, Professor Arrington moved incredibly quickly and fired a spell at Albus, without saying a word. Albus, who had watched out for wand movements, quickly jumped out of the way and rolled forward to avoid Professor Arrington's second spell. This "dance" continued for a while, until Albus got tired and was eventually hit.

"That was better, much better," said Professor Arrington calmly. "Your reactions were pretty decent. But you aren't agile enough. In a duel, you have to be light on your feet. Anticipate not only my spells, but also plan your own movements to dodge it. Pay attention to your environment, you have to know how you are going to dodge before I finally cast my spell. Control your movements; if your body is quicker than your mind, then you have already lost.  _Expelliarmus_!"

Their training continued another hour, and it was extremely exhausting. Albus' whole body hurt from colliding to the ground. Professor Arrington's attacks wouldn't end; on the contrary, the teacher was trying to trick Albus by changing the direction of his spell at the last second. Albus, on the other hand, tried to keep an eye on Arrington's wand, looking for indication in which direction he had to dive. Sometimes, the spells were aimed at his head, so he had to duck; sometimes at his legs, so Albus had to jump to avoid them. Finally, Professor Arrington lowered his wand.

"Okay. That's enough for today. I promise that our next lessons won't be as exhausting as this one, at least not physically. Today, we have Wednesday; I suggest we meet at Saturday morning, 9 o'clock, and then next Wednesday evening again. Please remember to practice the general transforming spell with heavier objects than a matchstick."

"Yes, Sir," said Albus, whose eagerness had somewhat declined during the lesson. Still, he couldn't wait to learn about more advanced Transfiguration and Duelling. "Good night."

"Good night, Albus. You did well."

When Albus was back at the Ravenclaw Common Room, Quentin and Scorpius were already awaiting him.

"Albus!" said Quentin. "How did it go - what has happened to you?" he added startled, when he noticed Albus battered appearance.

"Er, Albus," said Scorpius. "Are you sure Professor Arrington  _tutored_  you? He didn't by chance, I don't know,  _torture_  you?"

Albus slumped into an armchair and laughed. "Sort of," he said. "We practiced duelling, and I had to dodge his spells. That was kind of exhausting, you know… I guess I'll go to bed. Wait, Scorpius, how did you escape your detention with Smethwyck so quickly?"

Scorpius shrugged. "He seemed somewhat gruffly," he said brightly. "More than usual, I mean. I only had to write lines. My father gave me a special quill for that case, though, one that speeds things up a bit. So I was done in no time. Smethwyck let me go quite readily; I think he just wanted me out of his office."

O

Harry leaned back in his office chair and allowed himself a butterscotch candy. At last, something had worked without a catastrophe. Teddy had gone to France without being detected; he sent them information on Simiol's activities regularly. Even though he hadn't yet found the reason for the assault on Bill, Harry was quite optimistic about that matter.

The Hogwarts Express had reached the castle without a wall of Fiendfyre getting into the way. The goblins seemed to aim for a compromise with the Ministry; Urguk, the former Head of Gringotts, had praised him publicly and propagated a cooperation.

Of course, not  _everything_  was fine. He had been sharply criticised both inside the Ministry and by the press because of his handling of the Simiol issue; it still irritated Harry that the French politician had made them look like fools so easily. Ernie and Hermione were also under fire; still, their great reputation allowed them to simply bounce most of the criticism off, at least in public.

In France, things were different, though. According to Teddy's reports, there were massive hostilities against muggle-borns and the "muggle-friendly" British government. Francois Simiol was riding on a chorus of approval; as an extremely skilful rhetorician, he managed to get huge parts of the magical population on his side. Muggle-borns were only a minority in France; many old, influential pure-blood families were supporting Simiol's radical party, the "Front Magique".

Probably Ron was right, thought Harry, while he was scanning some documents he was supposed to sign. It wasn't their business what happened in France. Unfortunately, most of his his colleagues hat a totally different opinion about that. Hermione wanted to help the muggle-borns in France; Ernie felt offended by Simiol's anti-British propaganda, whereas Percy wanted to revenge his dead wife, Audrey.

Suddenly, the door to his office burst open. Harry jumped to his feet and drew his wand, but in front of him stood Ron.

"Harry," he panted, "they've got Teddy. Jean-Marie Mensong, the French Head Auror and a close confidant of Simiol, has just told the press that he managed to capture a British spy."

O

Albus' body still ached, when he woke up the next morning. He looked around. Quentin, Scorpius, Adnan and Gabriel were already gone; apparently, they had let him sleep and already gone to breakfast. He quickly got dressed and hurried out of the Ravenclaw Common Room. He didn't get very far, though; after a few meters, he faced Molly and Lucy Weasley.

"Ha! Excellent. There he is," cackled Lucy. "Now, Molly, jinx him. Come on, he is a first-year, the perfect object to practice. First disarming, I'd say."

Molly nodded and shouted, " _Expelliarmus_!" A jet of red light erupted from her wand and Lucy already cheered, but Albus, who was still in the "dodging mode" from yesterday evening, quickly ducked. Molly's spell soared above his head and crushed at the wall behind him. Albus raised his wand and on his part cried " _Expelliarmus!_ "

Molly reacted much too slowly and was hit by his spell. Her wand flew out of her hand and rolled down a staircase next to them. Albus turned towards Lucy, when he suddenly heard Molly sobbing. Turning back towards her, he only saw her storming away, her long hair flying everywhere. Lucy hesitated, then she shrugged and left in the opposite direction. Albus remained on the spot, completely bewildered. It seemed that Lucy had just wanted to teach Molly duelling. For that purpose, she had ambushed him, because he was a helpless first-year? Uncle Percy's daughters were really completely mad. He was glad, though, that dodging Molly's spell had worked out so well. Maybe Professor Arrington's drill had been useful after all.

Albus consulted his watch and realized that Herbology would begin in five minutes. He decided to skip breakfast and hurried outside.

When Albus finally approached the greenhouses, his classmates, who were already there, shrieked and pointed at something above him. He whirled around. Something was falling from the Gryffindor tower. It was the figure of a body. Albus stared in shock. A split second later, the body hit the ground hard. Students were running towards it; the screams were getting louder.

" _NO_!"

" _MOLLY_!"

 


	10. Guilt and Torture

The Ministry of Magic was in a state of pure chaos. It had slowly leaked that in response to Francois Simiol's intrigues, the Metamorphmagus Teddy Lupin had been sent to France as a spy. By now, it was common knowledge that he had been caught; Simiol's party, the Front Magique, hadn't exactly made a secret out of it.

As if this wasn't enough, the 16-year-old Molly Weasley, Percy's daughter, had committed suicide by throwing herself from the Gryffindor tower at Hogwarts. Percy still seemed to be too shocked to fully realize his loss; like a robot, he kept working day and night.

At the Auror office, the atmosphere was especially heated up. Harry was discussing with Ron and Proudfoot how to handle the situation.

"I will go to France immediately, to free Teddy," said Harry. "Ron, you want to undertake the investigations at Hogwarts? According to Professor McGonagall, everything points to a suicide, but we still have to examine this more closely."

"Sure," said Ron.

" _No_ ," said Proudfoot. "Think about it, Harry, that's completely irrational. Teddy is your godson, Molly is Ron's niece."

"Exactly!" shouted Ron. "That's why  _I_  have to go and solve this case! What do  _you_  have to do with it?"

Proudfoot rolled his eyes. "Do what you want, the poor girl is already dead anyway. But Harry, you won't be able to think rational, if your godson's life is at stake. You really should send someone with no personal connection to Teddy. That has been a basic Auror principle for -"

"I absolutely don't care about your old Auror principles," interrupted Harry irritated. Proudfoot's eyes widened.

Harry sighed. He shouldn't have lost his temper. "Look," he said in a more conciliatory tone of voice. "I understand your point, Peter, but there are some things you have to do by yourself. It was I who sent Teddy there, and I will be the one to free him, take my word for it!"

Proudfoot shook his head and leaned back in his chair, but did not argue. Harry got up.

"You're in charge, while we're gone," he said, clapping Proudfoot on the shoulder. "Ron will return quite soon, though. I hope so, at least. We'll stay in contact as usual, I might need Ernie's and Percy's help as well."

"Good luck, Harry," said Ron. "Take Teddy back with you."

"Don't go any unnecessary risk," contributed Proudfoot unhelpfully.

Harry rolled his eyes and left.

O

Albus was devastated. Molly's suicide had been entirely his fault, he knew it. After losing the duel with him, Molly had sobbed and apparently run straight to the top of the Gryffindor Tower, from where she had lunged into death.

Quentin and Scorpius desperately tried to comfort Albus, but to no avail. The whole school knew about their duel before Molly had jumped, and many had told Albus it wasn't his fault. Starting with Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, through to his brother, almost all of his cousins and many of his classmates, everyone had tried to convince Albus that he hadn't done anything wrong and that he wasn't responsible for Molly's suicide. Even Lucy, Molly's sister, didn't blame Albus; strangely enough, she didn't seem particularly bothered by her sister's death, on the contrary.

"She was a pretty useless Squib, anyway," she said calmly, shrugging, when Albus wanted to apologize to her. "In the end, she just went completely insane. Ah, well, she was just a millstone around my neck. Don't kick yourself because she was such a pathetic duellist."

All that didn't comfort Albus at all. He was withdrawing so much, ashamed of his guilt, that he almost forgot about his next lesson with Professor Arrington on Saturday morning. He was already half an hour late, when he finally reached Arrington's office.

"Sorry, Sir," murmured Albus, avoiding his teacher's gaze. "I forgot about our appointment."

"For once, it's okay, Albus," said Professor Arrington in a neutral voice. "Now look into my eyes and tell me everything that happened on Thursday."

Albus looked up into Professor Arrington's piercing, blue eyes. Forcing himself to hold his gaze, he told Arrington the about the events before Molly's death.

"And it was my fault," he finished desperately. "If she hadn't lost the duel, she never would have…"

Straight-faced, Professor Arrington drew his wand and pointed it towards Albus, who already tensed his muscles in preparation to dodge. For the first time, Professor Arrington smiled.

"Please stay still," he said. "I want to help you, Albus. Trust me."

Albus nodded hesitantly and relaxed a bit.

" _Induco Patronum!_ " murmured Professor Arrington, describing a complicated movement with his wand.

Suddenly, warmth and comfort flooded Albus from inside. The sorrow, the guilt, the shame he had felt were forced back by happier memories and love.

"Do you feel better?" asked Professor Arrington.

"I - yes - thank you!" said Albus sincerely.

"Listen to me, Albus. I know how you feel, and I know that it doesn't help if someone just tells you 'it wasn't your fault'. Although it might be sincere, you know. But let's stay with the facts. You disarmed Molly, after she attacked you. Then she committed suicide, let's face it, possibly because she was ashamed of losing a duel to a first year. We don't know that for sure, of course; your uncle, Ronald Weasley, is currently investigating the circumstances. It's entirely possible, however, that your duel was the final reason for her suicide."

"Yes," cried Albus, feeling some desperation rise again inside him. "So it  _was_  my fault, after all!"

"No," said Professor Arrington calmly. "There lies your mistake. Think about it, Albus; all you did was disarming her. Do people usually commit suicide, just because they are disarmed? Of course not. If anything, your duel was just the last straw that breaks the camel's back. There is absolutely no way you could have known she would kill herself, if she lost the duel, so you are not to blame. Not at all. Everyone would have reacted the way you did in this situation."

Albus hesitated and nodded reluctantly. Of course, it made sense what the Transfiguration master said. Still, even if it wasn't his fault, if it wasn't for him, Molly would probably still be alive. A terrible numbness remained, even though the feeling of guilt had somewhat diminished after Professor Arrington's spell and his words.

"I know there remains a wound inside you," said Professor Arrington. "But time will close it, trust me. The most important thing is that you stop blaming yourself for her actions. It would destroy you, Albus. The best way to distract yourself, is concentrating on your schoolwork and having fun with your friends. Do you agree?"

Albus nodded.

"Excellent. Then we'll start now with our second lesson."

O

Teddy Lupin was sitting in a cell. It was just like he had always imagined prisons to be; cold, grey, naked stone walls, and a tiny, barred window. Jean-Marie Mensong, the French equivalent of a Head Auror, had brought him here personally, after he had stunned him from behind. Teddy was angry about this; it had been his first Auror mission, and he had failed completely.

It was still a riddle to Teddy how they had gotten on to him, though. He hadn't done anything risky, anything that could have revealed his identity. On the contrary, he had been extremely careful, making contact with no one, and he had always stayed out of sight, heavily disguised through his Metamorphmagus ability. There was only one possibility: Someone must have betrayed him.

If there were really traitors in the Ministry, he had to warn Harry, as fast as possible. The only problem was that at the moment he couldn't warn anyone. The French Aurors hadn't even questioned him, so far; Teddy had no idea, what was going on outside of his cell.

As if on cue, the door of his cell opened, and Jean-Marie Mensong's belly preceded him out of the door. Mensong was a fat, hulky man with a malicious countenance. When he saw Teddy huddling on the floor, he creased his face into a cruel smile.

"Teddy Lupin. What are you doing in France?" he asked in perfect English.

"I wanted to visit my girlfriend's grandparents," said Teddy.

Mensong laughed. "Liar. You were spying on us, commissioned by Harry Potter. Why?"

"How did you know that?" asked Teddy in return, dropping the masquerade.

"Oh, thankfully someone gave us a hint," said Mensong. "But that wasn't the question, Lupin. Who are you spying on?"

Teddy decided that there wasn't any point in lying to Mensong.

"Francois Simiol," he said. "He is responsible for an attempted murder, Mr Mensong, the murder of Bill Weasley. He ordered a goblin to assassinate him. You should arrest Simiol, not me."

Mensong laughed again. "Arrest Francois?" he said disbelievingly. "You don't seem to know as much about me as you should, boy. I am vice chairman of the Front Magique. I support Francois' campaign to become 'President Magique'; I will definitely not  _arrest_  him."

Teddy swore inwardly. Mensong was hand in glove with Simiol. That was not good…

"Now tell me, m'boy, what have you already found out? And especially, what did you tell your  _godfather_  about us?" asked Mensong, colossally failing in trying to sound paternally.

"If I tell you, will you release me?" asked Teddy.

Mensong cackled only. "No, m'boy, but maybe you'll get a fair trial. Although, thinking about it - probably not. I could use the blood of a Metamorphmagus… Now, I really enjoy talking to you, m'boy, but unfortunately I haven't got all day. Well?"

Teddy remained silent. He had given Harry some information that could prove very valuable, should the conflict between their countries escalate any further. He wasn't just going to give that advantage away.

" _Crucio!_ "

The curse struck him, for the first time in his life. Teddy screamed; it was like burning alive, and drowning, and a thousand daggers stabbing his body - all at once. Twitching, he lay at Mensong's feet.

"Well? You're going to give in sooner or later anyway, m'boy, spare yourself the pain," said Mensong.

Teddy breathed heavily, but did not answer.

" _Crucio!_ "

O

Harry and Ernie had decided on a two-pronged strategy. Ernie would contact the current President Magique and ask him to negotiate about Teddy's immediate release. At the same time, Harry would advance the French Ministry, search for Teddy and evaluate the chances of freeing him.

He didn't go straight to Paris, though; although he deemed it unlikely that someone was following him, one couldn't be careful enough. While Ernie tried to communicate with the President Magique, he would pay the Beauxbatons Academy in the Pyrenees Mountains a visit, more precisely the Headmistress, Madame Maxime, and fill her in about the latest happenings. If there was really a serious British-French conflict arising, it would prove very important to maintain a good relationship to Beauxbatons. Besides, he fully trusted Maxime; as a half-giant, she would hardly be on the side of a pure-blood racist like Francois Simiol. Maybe she could even help him.

Regarding Ernie's negotiations, he was less optimistic. The current President Magique was in Harry's eyes a coward; he would hardly have the courage to release Teddy against the will of a big part of the magical community. Furthermore, he suffered from catastrophic popularity ratings; most likely, Francois Simiol would succeed him in a few months. Politically, Simiol was forcing him further and further to the right. Thus, Ernie's tries were in Harry's view more of a diversionary tactic.

Harry had never been at Beauxbatons before. Madame Maxime had readily agreed to meet him when he had asked for a personal conversation. Now he stood in front of a beautiful chateau in the midst of the Pyrenees Mountains. It was surrounded by majestic gardens and fountains. The whole atmosphere of the place was completely different from the more rustic, powerful magic at Hogwarts.

He didn't enter the chateau, but turned towards an especially arcane garden that was somewhat more contorted than the others. He didn't want the whole school to know about his presence in France, so Madame Maxime had offered to meet him in this garden to guarantee privacy.

It wasn't difficult to find Madame Maxime, who was towering high over many of the plants and bushes. She was wearing a navy blue cloak and looked most elegant, in spite of her monumental size.

"Arry Potter," she said, smiling at him. Her appearance had hardly changed since the Triwizard Tournament more than 20 years ago. "Welcome to Beauxbatons."

"It's an honour to be here," said Harry, slightly bowing his head. "Thank you for meeting me."

"It's always a pleasure to see you, Mister Potter" said Madame Maxime, waving one of her dustbin-lid-sized hands. "Ow can I 'elp you?"

" _Muffliato_ ," murmured Harry. Without further ado, he told her about the goblin's memory, his encounter with Francois Simiol and Teddy being captured.

"Well, I 'ave to say you made several terrible meestakes there…" said Madame Maxime when he had finished. "But what do you expect  _me_  to do?"

"Firstly, I just wanted to fill you in about what's going on," said Harry. "Secondly, I don't know about your influence on the French Ministry… But your word surely has weight in the French magical community, and there are election campaigns going on… Can you help?"

"I don't know if I even  _want_  to 'elp you with this," shrieked Madame Maxime. Harry remembered that Hagrid had once called her 'temperamental'. "It was most illegal to send a spy! An imprisonment would be appropriate!"

"Madame Maxime, we didn't exert any influence on France at all," said Harry soothingly. "Remember, there are murders going on in Britain. We were only concerned about our safety. Besides, Teddy is completely innocent. He only followed my orders. He is my godson," he added desperately.

Madame Maxime sighed. "Your godson? This is getting more and more complicated." She paused. "Very well. For you, Mister Potter. I shall talk to the President immediately. Your godson is 'eld captive by Jean-Marie Mensong, an outrageous personality. He's probably badly off."

Harry had to suppress the desire to hug her. "Thank you so much!" he said, failing in hiding how grateful he was.

"Don't thank me too early," said Madame Maxime. "I can't guarantee you anything. Although, our President may be a coward, may be under pressure from Simiol, but thankfully 'e is also corrupt. I will try to influence 'im, but at the very least you'll 'ave to bring a fat purse with you, Mister Potter."

O

Albus enjoyed his lesson with Professor Arrington. They started with Transfiguration; Professor Arrington taught him how to transform animals into objects.

"Can you imagine, why this is much easier than the other way round?" asked Arrington.

"That's obvious," said Albus happily. "In Transfiguration, you always concentrate on the result. Of course, an object is much easier to create than an animal, because it's not so - er - complex."

"Ah, but how do you explain that animate to inanimate is still clearly more difficult than inanimate to inanimate?"

Albus thought about it. "In a way you also have to - er - vanish the animal? But Vanishing is easier than Conjuration?" he asked.

"A fair guess, but no," said Professor Arrington. "You don't have to vanish the animal; Transformation and Vanishment are completely different things. In addition to the obvious, physical changes, when performing animate to inanimate transformations, you are also changing the mind and soul of the targeted creature. Essentially, what you are doing is concealing its consciousness and life force within the transfigured object. It's a rather philosophical question if the animal is still a living being after being transformed, in principal. Most magical theorists answer with yes, but I prefer a no. It doesn't really matter for our purposes. But my question wasn't trivial. As always, we have to take a look at our formula. What do you think?"

Albus wrote the formula on a piece of parchment. "It can't be wand power or bodyweight. Viciousness is only depending from myself, so we can exclude that, either. That leaves concentration - and the unknown variable."

Professor Arrington gave a satisfied nod. "That's pretty much as much as I know. It's a never-ending debate among Transfiguration-theorists if there is such a thing as 'life-force' and if that could be a component of the fifth variable. We know for sure, however, that with animate to inanimate transformations, the concentration factor will need to be larger due to the complexity of our animate targets. There are inherently going to be more differences simply due to the fact that one of our objects is alive. What makes things a little easier, though, is the fact that with these transformations we are simplifying our target. We are taking something that is constantly moving and changing and turning it into something static and solid. Going in the opposite direction, from inanimate to animate, requires even more concentration due to the fact that there is a lot more detail that needs to go into creating a living being."

"What about the willpower? Is it significantly higher than with purely inanimate transformations, as well?" asked Albus.

"You really have the mind of a true Transfiguration researcher. You always ask the right questions. In addition to the inherent will made up by the matter in the creature, there is also a much stronger natural resistance to change that comes from the mind of the creature. In order to successfully complete the transformation, you must overcome both of these forces with your own willpower. In short, yes, you will need a higher level of willpower, but as experience teaches, that won't be much of a problem to you, will it?"

"No, Sir," said Albus, smiling. "Willpower has always been my strong suit."

"Alright. So summarizing it all, physical complexity is altering the level of concentration needed. The required willpower relies mainly on the mental complexity of the creature at hand. Now tell me three reasons, why it's practically impossible to transform a dragon."

"Okay… A dragon has both great physical and mental complexity. And, of course, quite a bodyweight," said Albus confidently.

"Exactly," said Professor Arrington. "What about a human?"

"A human?" asked Albus incredulously. "Well, I suppose the bodyweight and the physical complexity might be manageable - er - in theory. But the mental complexity should be too high, right?"

"Yes, by far. No one could ever hope to summon up this amount of willpower. Alright. Now you've understood the theory, you can try it out in practice. This beetle here is to be transformed into a button. The general incantation is  _Fera Verto_ ; this is the incantation of all animate to inanimate transformations. There are some more specific incantations, but they are also depending on the target and thus far more complicated. In addition, there are so many different kinds of beetles that it's ridiculous to memorize them all anyway. That goes for practically all animals, of course, so you will always use  _Fera Verto_."

"What about the wand movement, Professor?" asked Albus, who couldn't wait to try it out.

"Tap the targeted animal three times sharply with your wand, then point your wand directly at the animal," said Professor Arrington shortly.

Albus did as he was told and confidently said " _Fera Verto!_ ", concentrating deeply on changing the beetle, overcoming his resistance and clearly imagining a Ravenclaw-blue button. And, sure enough, a split second later exactly this button was in front of him on his desk. The beetle, on the other hand, was gone.

"Nice colour," commented Professor Arrington drily. "Excellent. I give you the permission to practice this alone, but you won't transform anything bigger than a mouse without the presence of a teacher. Remember your responsibility; you are working with living beings here. Mistakes could prove disastrous. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Sir," said Albus quickly.

"Okay. Then I suggest we practice dodging once again for a few minutes, then you can enjoy the snow outside with your friends."

The training was as exhausting as the last time, but Albus' anticipation had significantly improved, so he succeeded much more often in dodging Professor Arrington's spells. When they were finished and Albus was already about to go, something came into his mind.

"Professor? What was that spell you used on me?"

Arrington smiled. "I induced a Patronus inside you. You know, what a Patronus is?"

"Yes, I've seen my father cast one many times," said Albus. "But he always conjured a silver stag, it was never inside another person."

"That isn't the same," said Professor Arrington. "I invented that spell myself; probably your father has never heard of it. I'm glad it worked that well."

"Could you teach me this spell, Sir?"

"Not in the near future, it's too difficult and too dangerous," said Professor Arrington. "You really have to be a very experienced and skilled wizard to induce something in another object, let alone a human. What I will teach you pretty soon, however, is the corporeal Patronus you have seen your father cast. Most people underestimate it; it's extremely useful for many things, it can do much more than only chase dementors away. It is, however, advanced magic, and I doubt that anyone was ever able to cast it in his first year at Hogwarts."

O

Teddy was nearly unconscious. Mensong had continued the torture for what felt like hours. The pain was unbearable, but Teddy hadn't given in. Right now, Mensong seemed to give him a break, which seemed unusual. Teddy looked up. The door to his cell opened once again, and Francois Simiol personally stepped in.

"Greetings, Mr Lupin," he said. "Has he said anything?" he asked Mensong.

"No," hissed Mensong. "I tortured him for more than an hour, but he wouldn't give in."

Simiol didn't seem surprised, but frowned. "He is an Auror, so Legilimency or Veritaserum will be useless as well. Anyway, the President is going to release him; Maxime is just convincing him."

"Release? No way! Firstly, he hasn't told us yet what he reported to Potter. Secondly, I didn't have the intention to let him go at all. He is a Metamorphmagus, Francois! His blood is worth thousands of galleons on the black market," protested Mensong.

"Idiot!" hissed Simiol. "Don't you have any sense of honour? I'm not draining the blood of this boy, and surely I don't deal at the black market! Of course we will release him. Don't you realize that this is the perfect opportunity to attack the President in public? The population will be outraged that he just lets a British spy go. We can accuse him for being corrupt, for being a traitor of our country! After this, the election is as good as won for us! And now stop torturing the boy, if the public gets wind of this, you'll only seem cruel, you fool. Besides, you'd do well to remember that this is Harry Potter's godson. I don't want to provoke a war with Britain."

Mensong turned red. "I just could keep him, regardless of what the President says. He's not in the position to force me to do anything."

"I want to win an election, not to stage a coup, you blithering idiot!" shouted Simiol. "Why should we do that, with our popularity ratings? The election is as good as won, and you are taking such risky actions. What do you expect Lupin to say, anyway? What could he have found out, after all? We weren't doing anything potentially explosive or illegal, until you started acting like a sadistic torturer! In the next hour, a representative of the President will come and ask you to release Lupin, and you will damn follow this order!"

Mensong dropped his gaze. "Very well," he murmured reluctantly.

Simiol threw him an angry look and turned towards Teddy. "Mr Lupin, I want to apologize sincerely for the treatment you have endured. I didn't approve that. Your injuries will be healed before you are released. However, I would advise you strongly, not to meddle in French affairs ever again. You might also want to tell this your godfather. I have nothing to do with Bill Weasley being attacked, if you believe me or not, and I don't want a conflict with Britain. I just want to be left alone, and I won't accept being spied on, even less when I'm finally President. Am I understood?"

Teddy, who was cowering on the floor in a fetal position, only whimpered.

Simiol only nodded and rushed out of the cell.

 


	11. The Letter

Harry was boiling with anger. His godson, Teddy Lupin, had been brutally tortured by the French equivalent of a Head Auror, Jean-Marie Mensong. Although he was extremely relieved, that Teddy had finally been released, right now he had half a mind to declare war on France. He was only held back by Hermione, who was, as always, a voice of reason, and his own compunction for sending Teddy to France in the first place.

Still, the Ministry was under big pressure. The last weeks, the public hadn't really paid much attention to the conflict with France, because the uproar after the murders of Audrey Weasley and Firenze and the Fiendfyre assault on the Hogwarts express had been dominating. Now, however, the  _Daily Prophet_  had gotten wind of all the details, including Teddy being tortured, and milked the story with relish. The current editor in chief, Zacharias Smith, had written an op-ed article in which he massively criticised Harry's reaction and the Ministry's handling of the situation in general. The worst was that Harry couldn't even disagree with Smith's assessment; he knew that they had made political mistakes.

Even more of a problem for the Ministry was the sudden anti-French propaganda the  _Prophet_ was making. Undoubtedly, they had success with their campaign; the claims for a harder line against France became more frequent, both inside and outside of the Ministry. No one knew concretely, what to do, though.

In France, Francois Simiol's popularity ratings were better than ever. The population was outraged about the British Ministry's behaviour, so the President Magique was massively under fire for his too "lax" demeanour. Simiol attacked his rival with relish and rhetorical mastery; the election was already as good as decided.

But of course, there were more than enough other, at least as pressing problems. The riddle of the mysterious Fiendfyre caster had not been solved, neither the murders committed by goblins. Firenze's murderer hadn't been identified; there was still the problem of a potential traitor inside Hogwarts. Molly's death seemed to have been suicide; according to Ron, all signs pointed to it, at least. Sure enough, no one knew the concrete reason, why she had killed herself; most simply assumed mental issues after her mother's death, but his instinct told Harry, that there might be more behind this. To cap it all, his own son, Albus, was seemingly involved in Molly's death, as he had duelled her shortly before she jumped.

All in all, the whole situation was quite a disaster. They were standing in front of a mountain of problems, of which not a single one had been solved so far.

Harry sighed and apparated to St Mungo's, where Teddy had to remain for a few days. His godson was lying in a bed, but he was awake. The colour of his hair had been a dirty brown, when Harry had been finally allowed to take him back to Britain; by now, it had changed to black. By experience, Harry knew that the colour of Teddy's hair was a good indicator of how he was feeling; black meant that he was physically quite healthy, but his mind was sad.

Harry placed a hand on his godson's shoulder. "How do you feel, Teddy?" he asked, already guessing the answer.

"I'm alright," murmured Teddy. "The healers say that I can go tomorrow; I received no lasting injuries."

"I'm so sorry, Teddy. It's all my fault. I sent you there, into the lion's den," said Harry.

"No," said Teddy, his hair turning red. "Harry, there has to be a traitor inside the Ministry. I didn't do anything suspicious, really; there is absolutely no way they could have found me, trust me. Besides, Mensong admitted that someone gave him a hint. You have to carry out an investigation and test everyone who knew of my mission."

"I will," said Harry, frowning.

"And, Harry," said Teddy. "To be honest, I don't think that Simiol ordered to murder Bill. Maybe we were wrong about him. He stopped Mensong from torturing me and even draining my blood -" Harry shuddered - "and told me that he didn't have anything to do with the assault on Bill and just wanted a rest from us. He seemed quite honest."

Harry thought about it. Simiol had probably stopped Mensong from torturing Teddy only out of political motives; Harry still didn't believe a word from what he was saying. In general, he trusted his godson, but in this case the pain might have clouded his judgement. He didn't say anything about it, though, but stroked Teddy's hair.

"You shouldn't worry about that now," he said. "You should rest now. I will fetch you tomorrow."

Teddy nodded, and Harry turned to leave. When he had almost reached the door, his godson whispered his name timidly. Harry turned around; Teddy's hair was now blonde.

"Harry… Am I dismissed from the Auror office?"

"Oh," said Harry. He definitely hadn't thought about that. "Of course not! On the contrary, you did well. If anything, it was my fault that you were captured. No, if you still want to, you may of course continue your Auror training."

Teddy only smiled wearily, but the colour of his hair turned into his favourite shade of turquoise. This really made Harry's day. Immensely relieved, he gave his godson a last wave and left the hospital.

O

Albus was shocked. Out of the newspaper, he had learned about Teddy being captured and tortured. He had always been very close with his father's godson and really hoped he was okay. Apparently, his father had somehow managed to free Teddy; the newspaper had a lot to say about that as well, but it was all quite complicated, and Albus didn't understand it fully.

The  _Daily Prophet_  had also featured a large article about the intrigues of Francois Simiol, Quentin's father. Simiol had explicitly distanced himself from Teddy's torture and publicly denied every connection to the attempted murder of Bill Weasley, but the  _Prophet_  had nevertheless portrayed him as a ruthless, cruel pureblood racist and murderer. The notorious Rita Skeeter had even published a much-noticed essay under the title "Simiol: Statesman or Slayer?", making it pretty clear which of those two possibilities was her favourite one.

Quentin suffered a lot under this. So far, he had maintained a low profile at Hogwarts. Now his father was on everyone's lips, and his infamous image was projected directly on Quentin. Albus remembered that there had been similar situations with Scorpius at the beginning of the term, when many classmates still thought that being a Malfoy meant being evil. This period hadn't continued very long, however, because Scorpius had been sorted into Ravenclaw, befriended Albus and also because he was always funny and nice to everyone. The situation with Quentin, however, was a lot more difficult; the resentments against Scorpius hadn't been forgotten and rekindled as a result of his friendship with Quentin. Albus' image had also got scratches after his involvement in Molly's suicide, so he being Harry Potter's son didn't protect them.

Albus, who had witnessed Quentin's difficult relationship to his father at King's Cross, felt sorry for his friend. Quentin didn't have anything against muggle-borns, on the contrary. Whenever anyone had been confronted with resentments because of his family, he had always been the one to admonish them to be unprejudiced towards everyone. Albus only hoped that the  _Daily Prophet_  wouldn't write anything about their friendship at Hogwarts; he didn't want to imagine Francois Simiol's reaction.

The Ravenclaws mainly still stood by their side, but many Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, especially those who were muggle-born or had known Molly, were openly hostile or at least avoided them. From the Slytherins, Rose and Phobos remained friends with the Ravenclaw trio, but Leon Strelka, Zacharias Myers and Aurora Dindane only seemed to wait for the ideal opportunity to catch Quentin alone. Often, they were pointing towards him and even huddled together with two Gryffindor girls, Shawna Shafiq and Cissy Carrow, discussing eagerly and looking in Quentin's direction.

Even some teachers seemed to see Quentin with different eyes. Professors Arrington, Flitwick and Pyrites were treating him as usual, but Professor Botwright wouldn't call him any more when he raised his hand, and Professor Longbottom, who called all students by their first names, suddenly addressed him as "Mr Simiol".

Clearly the worst, however, was the last lesson of the day, Defence Against the Dark Arts. For the umpteenth time, they were playing the stupid puck-pushing game. Even those students, who had been enthusiastic the first times they had done it, were slowly growing tired of it.

When they were dividing into pairs for the first "duels", Strelka approached Quentin. "The two of us, Simiol?" he asked politely, although his malicious smile gave him away. Quentin nodded, determined, and joined Strelka. Albus, who had a very bad feeling with this, turned towards Scorpius.

"I want to know what Strelka is up to," he muttered.

Scorpius only shrugged. "What can he do? Probably he just wants to win this stupid game against Quentin, but more can't happen, Smethwyck would notice."

"If you say so," murmured Albus and mentally prepared for the game. Suddenly, there was a cry of pain. Strelka clutched his forehead and moaned, as if he had to suffer agony.

"What is the meaning of this?" growled Professor Smethwyck angrily.

"Sir! Quentin here levitated the puck and dashed it at my head!" cried Strelka.

"What? Of course not! I didn't do anything - you levitated it yourself," spluttered Quentin.

"He's lying, he's flat out lying right at your face, Professor," shouted Strelka. "Ask all the others, they will confirm this!"

Smethwyck threateningly turned towards the students who had practiced next to Strelka and Quentin.

"I saw it, Sir, it was Simiol," purred Aurora Dindane. Zacharias Myers nodded in agreement.

"Yes, Professor, Simiol hurled the puck at Leon," shouted Shawna Shafiq.

"It was fully on purpose, Sir," added her friend, Cissy Carrow.

"Silence," growled Smethwyck, glaring dangerously, when Albus and Scorpius started to protest furiously. "I've heard enough. Simiol, that means a week of detention for you. Not only you deliberately hurt a classmate, even worse, you also lied to me. You're sinister and sneaky, Simiol, just like your father. No wonder that you are friends with Malfoy. Don't think you can fool me. You stay behind, we have to talk about your detention. The rest of you is dismissed, get along with you!"

No one dared to stay behind. Outside of the classroom, Albus saw Lucy and Dominique Weasley, accompanied by two other Gryffindors he didn't know. They didn't pay any attention to him, though, so Albus just followed his classmates to dinner. When Albus and Scorpius had finished eating, Quentin still hadn't joined them.

"Probably he went straight to the common room," said Scorpius. "I can't blame him, the Great Hall isn't exactly a funny place for him these days."

"We should bring him some food, at least," said Albus, who didn't like the thought of Quentin already avoiding meals at all.

"Good idea," said Scorpius, putting a large amount of casserole on a plate.

Quentin wasn't in the common room, though, and he wasn't in the dormitory either. Albus was starting to get worried about his friend.

"He can't be in the library, it's already closed," mused Scorpius. "Maybe he already has his first detention with Smethwyck? But immediately after class, without dinner?"

"We should go to Smethwyck's office and check it," said Albus. "To be sure he wasn't attacked by one of those idiots."

"Strelka was down in the Great Hall, so he can't have done anything," reminded him Scorpius. "But alright. Smethwyck is going to kill us, though."

Albus only waved his hand reassuringly and headed off determinedly, with Scorpius on his heels. His courage diminished a lot, though, when they finally stood in front of Professor Smethwyck's office. With an expression, as if he did something against better judgement, Scorpius knocked. The door opened immediately, and Tyron Smethwyck was looking down on them.

"What do you want?" he grumbled, eyeing them suspiciously.

"We wanted to ask, if you knew, where Quentin is, sir," said Albus.

"How am I supposed to be where this evil boy is?" snapped Smethwyck. "Up to no good, once again, I assume!"

With this, he slammed the door in Albus' and Scorpius' face.

"What now?" asked Albus after he had halfway recovered from this rough rebuff.

"Nothing now," said Scorpius. "We can't search the entire castle. Maybe he's just in the bathroom, or something. Don't you think you're overreacting a bit?"

"Maybe," murmured Albus. "But somehow I have a bad feeling about this."

They returned to the common room and finished their homework. When it was already half past ten o'clock in the evening and Quentin was still nowhere to be seen, Albus got more and more desperate.

"Where could he be? Maybe in the hospital wing?" he asked.

"Good idea," said Scorpius. "Let's look there. Just hope that Smethwyck doesn't catch us."

They had luck and reached the hospital wing without coming across a teacher, but Quentin wasn't there. According to Madam Pomfrey, he hadn't been at the hospital wing at all the whole day.

"This is really troubling," said Albus. Scorpius was looking worried now, as well. "We should tell a teacher," he said. "But not Smethwyck, please."

Albus snorted. "Let's go to Professor Arrington," he suggested. "He will probably know how to find Quentin."

They hurried to the Transfiguration master's office and knocked. Professor Arrington opened the door.

"I hope you two have a good reason to be out of bed so late?" he said, surprised. "Albus, what's the matter?" he quickly added, when he recognized their extremely worried facial expressions.

"Quentin has vanished," panted Albus. "He had to stay behind at DADA, we already went down for dinner. Since then, he hasn't returned. We already checked Professor Smethwyck's office and the hospital wing, but he isn't there, either.

Professor Arrington frowned. "That's not good," he said. "He might have been targeted by some bullies. Have you checked the way down from Professor Smethwyck's classroom to the Great Hall?"

"We - no," said Albus, already turning to head off, when Professor Arrington called him back.

"Wait," he said. "There is a faster way to find him." Arrington drew his wand, moved it in big circles and murmured, " _Sequor Patronum!_ "

A huge, silver shining American eagle erupted from his wand and slowly flew out of the office. Professor Arrington signalled them to follow the eagle and led the way.

"Is that a Patronus, Professor?" asked Albus curiously. It certainly seemed so, judging by the eagle's appearance and the warmth it was emitting, but on the other hand, Professor Arrington had used a different incantation. Besides, Albus had never heard of a Patronus being used as some kind of detection dog.

"Yes, it is," answered Arrington, while they were walking. "I did a lot of research on the Patronus charm, you know, because I figured it might have much more potential than only fight dementors. And I was right, as you see, I managed to invent a few very useful versions of the spell. This one is going to lead us to your friend."

Sure enough, the eagle led them directly towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. It only paused at the bottom of the last staircase before the classroom, and sailed in circles above them.

" _Lumos maxima_ " murmured Professor Arrington. The corridor ablaze with light, and Albus looked around. Quentin was nowhere to be seen, though.

" _Homenum revelio_ " said Professor Arrington. Albus didn't know what that spell was supposed to do, but a small halo appeared about a foot above the floor. Arrington pointed his wand at the halo.

" _Finite Incantatem!_ " he shouted. Suddenly, Quentin became visible. Albus gasped in shock. His friend was lying blood-spattered on the floor. Weakly, he tried to move, but his limbs wouldn't obey him.

"Quentin!" cried Scorpius and rushed to his side. "Move aside, please," said Professor Arrington not unkindly. Reluctantly, Scorpius stepped back, and Arrington levitated Quentin on a stretcher and set off to the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey was reasonably shocked when she saw Quentin's multiple injuries and bruises, but according to her, luckily, none of them was life-threatening. She poured some potions down his throat, and Quentin sat up a bit and seemed to recognize Albus and Scorpius for the first time. "Hi," he croaked.

"What happened, Mr Simiol?" asked Professor Arrington sharply.

"Professor!" shrieked Madam Pomfrey outraged. "You cannot possibly think of  _questioning_  the boy now, he needs  _rest_  -"

"It's okay," interrupted Quentin quietly and unexpectedly. He took a deep breath. "Professor Smethwyck asked me to stay behind after class. He told me the details about my detention. Then I left the classroom, and the next moment I felt something pushing me in my back. I lost the balance and fell down the stairs. Then I couldn't see anything anymore, because someone had given me a blindfold. I was punched and stabbed from all sides. In the end, they body-bound me and somehow made me invisible. I was lying there until you found me. It felt like ages, and I couldn't move. It was terrible," he whispered.

"Did you recognize any of your attackers?" asked Professor Arrington.

Quentin sadly shook his head and flinched at once. "No," he said. "I couldn't see anything because of the blindfold, and they almost didn't talk. I have no idea who it was."

O

"Who knew of Teddy's mission, Harry?" asked the Minister of Magic, Ernie Macmillan.

"Aside from you, Hermione, Ron and Percy and Proudfoot? No one, as far as I can tell. But if Teddy is right, someone still must have got wind of it."

"Have you already an idea how this could be possible?" asked Ernie.

"Well, our conference room is absolutely bug-proof. We talked about it at the Auror Office, of course. In our premises are precautions against spies, though. That leaves three possibilities: Either we have a traitor in the Auror Office, or an Auror was careless and let something slip, or Percy let something slip."

"Or Mensong was lying and no one gave them a hint. They might have found Teddy without help, after all. Nevertheless, how do you intend to proceed further?"

"I don't know, Ernie, I just don't know!" said Harry furiously. "The situation is a disaster - one half of my Aurors are searching the whole country for traces of Fiendfyre, traces of Dark magic, without the slightest success. We can't find the Fiendfyre guy, we can't find Firenze's killer. The other half is trying to find those goblin extremists who have killed Audrey and Susan and all the others. And they have just as little success! We don't know which role Francois Simiol and the Front Magique has, as well. We don't know for sure why Molly Weasley committed suicide, or if it was suicide after all. And now a potential traitor inside the Ministry. I can't do anything, Ernie, because I don't know who the enemy is! The past few months we have totally failed in everything we've done, Ernie, I just don't know if I'm the right man for this job anymore."

"Calm down, Harry," said Ernie. "We mustn't lose our head now. Let's discuss this with Hermione, Ron and Percy. We will conceive a plan of action."

O

Quentin had recovered relatively quickly and was released from the hospital wing after three days. Madam Pomfrey had healed his physical injuries quite quickly, although, according to her, he was lucky that his own blood hadn't suffocated him. More troublesome, however, had been his mental damage. Quentin appeared to have claustrophobia; thus, lying petrified on the floor had been mental torture for him. At first, even the blanket had caused him to feel uncomfortable and he couldn't sleep with it, so Madam Pomfrey had to cast a warming spell. Scorpius was very good at cheering him up, though, which seemed to unnerve Madam Pomfrey at first. When Albus expressed the theory that it would possibly "accelerate the healing process", however, she didn't object their frequent visits anymore, and Quentin soon felt better. Sure enough, it remained unknown, who his attackers had been.

One night, when Albus, Quentin and Scorpius were sitting in the common room, watching the stars and talking about their classes, an owl landed at a window ledge and tapped with its beak at the glass. Scorpius got up, opened the window and carried the owl inside, petting it carefully. The owl was carrying a small package and a letter.

"It's addressed to you, Albus!" said Scorpius, who already seemed to be best friends with the owl, as it affectionately snuggled its head into Scorpius' pullover. Surprised, Albus took the letter and opened it.

" _Dear Albus_ ," it read.

" _My grief about my daughter's dead and the tragic circumstances has been indescribable. I heard about your duel with Molly before she jumped. While I certainly don't blame you alone for her death, I'm sure you will have a feeling of guilt. You will be happy to hear that you might be able to repay some of it by doing me a small favour._

_As you probably know, Molly's memorial ceremony will take place next week at Hogwarts. I will of course be there, too. All I want is to talk to my daughter once again._

_I don't know if your father told you about it, but before he faced Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest, he used the so-called Resurrection Stone. This Stone is one of the three so-called Deathly Hallows (the other two are the Elder Wand, which played an important role in the Second Wizarding War, as I'm sure you know, and your father's Invisibility Cloak). It enables you to raise your loved ones from the dead. Even though they don't really belong into this world, you can certainly see them and talk to them for a while._

_Your father dropped the Resurrection Stone in the Forbidden Forest, and it was never retrieved. Now I ask you to find it for me, as I have a feeling that you certainly owe me that much. In the parcel you'll find an object invented by the Department of Mysteries; it can detect the Stone and will lead you the way._

_I am sending this at night rather than by the usual morning post. Hopefully you will be able to read this away from prying eyes and avoid awkward questions. You may not for anything tell a teacher or your father about this, they would never let you go into the Forbidden Forest. Trust me when I tell you, though, that there is no danger for you in the Forest. The centaurs are not attacking students and would not let harm befall you in their territory._

_Please recover the Stone and give it to me at the memorial ceremony next week. Then I will forgive you everything, and your debt would be fully repaid._

_In inexpressible hope,_

_Your Uncle Percy."_

 


	12. The Plan of Action

Ernie took a deep breath. “Thank you all for coming to this Extraordinary Conference. As you all know, we are currently facing the biggest crisis since the Second Wizarding War. Today, we have to conceive a concrete plan, how to handle the situation.”

Harry was sitting next to the Minister; he looked around. They had decided to confer only with a narrow circle of trustworthy and influential authorities. In Harry’s opinion, there were still too way too many persons present, which rather troubled him in view of potential traitors inside the Ministry. After Firenze’s death and Teddy being captured in France, his cautiousness had redoubled. Ernie, however, had insisted to invite at least the Heads of the most important Departments, as the crisis concerned many different areas.

Hermione, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, was next to him, with a tense expression on her face; Ron looked somewhat more relaxed. Hogwarts Headmistress McGonagall had come, as well as Neville and Professor Arrington. Harry had been doubtful about his presence, but eventually reluctantly agreed to the Minister’s and Professor McGonagall’s proposition to invite him, as he had been the one to attack the mysterious Fiendfyre caster and furthermore thrown an eye on the Hogwarts teachers’ activities. Harry didn’t really know much about Arrington’s past and was hesitant to fully trust him, but especially Minerva seemed to trust him completely, and no doubt he had exceptional magical skills.

Next to Arrington sat Percy, the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Donald Cresswell, the Head of the Goblin liaison office, and Arnold Peasegood, the Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Surprisingly, even the Department of Mysteries had agreed to send a representative to their meeting; Professor Saul Croaker was an old, short wizard with a pale skin, which sharply contrasted his jet-black cloak.

All those people were more or less trustworthy, although Harry still felt uncomfortable with some of them. He had met Arnold Peasegood on some occasions, and he struck him as an honourable man, as did Donald Cresswell. Croaker, though, he didn’t really know; Harry hardly ever had to do with Unspeakables. Ernie roused him out of his thoughts.

“Harry, could you please give us an overview of the Auror’s current activities and the results of your investigations?” he asked.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“The Auror Office is working at full stretch at the problems,” he began. “Still, we have had some difficulties to solve them. It is almost certain, though, that radical goblin groups are behind the murders of the last months, including Susan Bones and Audrey Weasley. We managed to capture a goblin who tried to kill Bill Weasley, and used Legilimency on him.”

He paused shortly, kicking Ron, who had smirked ironically, in the shin. It was not that _they_ had captured the goblin; in fact, Bill himself had overpowered him. Still, it couldn’t hurt to make it appear as if it was a success of the Auror Office in front of the other Departments.

“According to his mind, the pure-blood-radical President Magique candidate Francois Simiol ordered the assault. Thus, we sent Teddy Lupin to France, as a spy. However, Teddy couldn’t find any concrete hints that Simiol could indeed have ordered such a deed, or any connections to Britain or goblins whatsoever. Simiol’s close confidant Jean-Marie Mensong proved to be exceptionally cruel, however. That’s all we know.”

“That’s all you know?” asked Arrington incredulously. “So was it now Simiol or not? What about Firenze’s death? What about the Fiendfyre? Surely, you must have found out _something_ by now, with an army of highly trained Aurors.”

The other people in the room stirred surprised, as if they were only just reminded of these problems. Exactly because of this kind of behaviour Harry didn’t like Arrington. Whenever he met him, Arrington made him feel like an incompetent schoolboy.

“We don’t have an _army_ of Aurors,” said Harry through gritted teeth. “And we’re still working on those incidents,” he admitted grudgingly.

Ernie cleared his throat. “Yes - well - there is still the possibility that Firenze’s murderer is in Hogwarts. Do you have any news on that subject?” he asked towards Headmistress McGonagall and Arrington. McGonagall looked at Arrington.

“Not really,” he sighed. “I have thrown a close eye on all extraordinary activities from the teachers. Only Smethwyck left the castle sometimes, but nothing suspicious, I’m afraid. We still have to take the possibility into account that a student collaborated with a person from outside Hogwarts. By the way, have you any idea what the motive for Firenze’s death could be?”

Hermione leaned forward. “No. We have thought about it for a long time, but it’s a mystery. The whole issue smells like it has a concrete reason, I don’t think it’s only a symbolic assault. I don’t like the recent activities around the Forbidden Forest. Neville spotted a goblin, but when we searched for them, we couldn’t find them anymore. The other centaurs cannot be contacted. The goblins suddenly give public statements and offer us their cooperation. All this is most odd.”

“What do you suggest to do about it?” asked Ernie.

Hermione hesitated. “Next week, at Molly’s funeral, the Aurors should search the Forest thoroughly. We finally need clarity if there are any unusual activities. Besides, we should accept the goblins’ offer and lead a conversation with them.”

“Harry, Professor McGonagall, Cresswell, do you agree on this?” asked Ernie. All three nodded.

“Excellent. Cresswell, please prepare everything to contact Urguk for a dialogue forum. Harry, Ron, you will organise the examination of the Forest, won’t you?”

“Sure,” said Harry. He had wanted to properly search the Forest for some time now, and was glad he finally got the permission to do it.

“That’s settled then. Which takes us to the Fiendfyre. Professor Croaker, have you found any means to fight or locate Fiendfyre?”

Croaker coughed. “The Department of Mysteries usually examines greater problems than simple enchanted fire. Still, after the dramatic request of the Minister, we did some research on the subject.”

“Have you found a counter-curse?” asked Harry.

Arrington snorted. “You of all people should know that this isn’t possible, Mr Potter. There can be no counter-curse, because, as has been proven, Fiendfyre destroys Horcruxes. If there were something as simple as an efficient counter-curse, this would obviously not be the case.”

“Exactly,” confirmed Croaker. “In principle, it might be hindered, theoretically maybe even stopped, but you cannot extinguish it, expect when you’re the caster, of course. I’m sure you have spell-inventors who can work out how this is done concretely. Regarding the detection, in theory this should be possible. It is unsure, however, if it can still be detected when it has already been called back. As Fiendfyre is usually only for a short period of time active, it probably has to be located during this span. In practice, this is obviously extremely difficult, as you can’t permanently control the whole country. At least not with our current magical methods.”

“But the Basilisk venom could in fact be neutralized, right? With Phoenix tears. Maybe there is a similar substance against Fiendfyre?” asked Harry.

Croaker shrugged. “Maybe. But I don’t think that Phoenix tears would do the job here, and even if they did, we’d probably need a whole lake of Phoenix tears to neutralize something as physically and magically large as Fiendfyre. But I don’t think that anyone has really ever wasted much thought on that.”

“And that’s exactly the problem, right?” said Arrington sharply. “There is no such thing as professional magical research! The Department of Mysteries is wasting its time with abstract themes like time, space, love, with complete nonsense like prophecies and so on! The magical community has never gained any practical use from your work, none at all! The Ministry is engaging a few freelance spell-inventors, who have trouble to earn enough money with this job! Every shop in Diagon Alley makes the owner rich, but no one will spend a galleon for magical research! A few self-employed wizards and witches experiment under completely unprofessional conditions, which is often very dangerous. Pandora Lovegood, a brilliant witch, died because of this, but who in the Ministry cared? And let’s face it, all this is exactly the reason why the muggles have overtaken us in so many fields! By their standard, we are practically stuck in the 18th Century, at best! And this is entirely the fault of the eternal retrocession of the Ministry of Magic!”

“You are going too far!” Ernie had jumped up and banged his fist on the table. “Since the Second Wizarding War, we have modernized the Ministry in any possible way! And I don’t think there are still many secrets left, over the centuries there has been such a great deal of research that I doubt it would make much sense to waste resources on -”

“You have no idea what you are talking about,” said Arrington dismissively. “I have been doing my own research, you know, parallel to my regular job, without any financial or personal support. My research has been comparatively unprofessional and I didn’t have nearly enough time to be able to live it up. And still, do you know how many previously unknown spells I found? Mind you, my discoveries were no useless details, but crucial advances! Let a professional group of researches work for a year, under ideal conditions, and our magical methods will be completely revolutionized! But what is the Ministry doing? It’s not lifting a finger!”

“That’s not true!” shouted Percy. “How dare you make such -”

“We completely got off the subject,” interrupted Hermione. “If we can’t do anything against the Fiendfyre problem, we should perhaps concentrate on what we do about the tensions with France?”

Everyone was silent, obviously taken aback by Arrington’s frontal attack on the Ministry. Exactly knowing the muggles’ inventions, Harry felt the Professor might indeed have a point there, although he disapproved of his ongoing accusations against the Ministry. In Harry’s opinion, Arrington abused his invitation to this official meeting tremendously.

Percy cleared his throat.

“Regarding France, we are currently facing a difficult situation. By sending a spy, to cap it all an obviously unqualified one, we affronted them. On the other hand, we cannot just ignore Simiol ordering a murder, even if we aren’t sure about that, and a French official torturing Teddy Lupin. It is more than likely that Simiol is going to win the election, so I don’t think it makes much sense to communicate with the current President, as he has de facto already lost his power. If we want a dialogue, Simiol would be the only sensible address.”

Harry looked at his brother-in-law in surprise. Except for the stinger against Teddy, his statement had been more level-headed and reasonable than everything he had heard from Percy lately. Maybe he was at last recovering a bit from his wife’s and daughter’s death. Harry somewhat admired Percy for his professionality; if Ginny or his children had been killed, he surely wouldn’t be able to do such a good job in the Ministry as Percy, whose diplomatic skills and qualifications were still beyond any doubt. Regarding Simiol, Harry didn’t know what to do, either. On the one hand, he knew that there was no way around a dialogue; on the other hand, he was reluctant to talk to a radical pure-blood-fanatic, a man who had possibly ordered a murder, a man whose close confidant had tortured his godson.

“Wait a minute there,” said Arrington. “Isn’t there the possibility that somebody implanted that memory in the goblin’s mind? Maybe someone wanted to achieve exactly the tensions between Britain and France. Simiol might indeed be innocent, after all.”

A shocked silence followed.

“We have to consider that possibility,” said Harry carefully. “Although, in my experience, false memories can be identified quite easily. They appear distorted and clouded. The goblin’s memory was comparatively clear, though. Of course, we don’t really know much about the goblin mind. I have no idea how we could reliably find out if this memory is real or not.”

In the end, it was Hermione who spoke out, what everyone thought.

“Percy, in any case I think you should arrange a personal meeting with Simiol. No one can guarantee that it will be of any use, but at the very least we have to try to clear up all the misunderstandings and set up civil relationships with France. Maybe you should talk to him as well, Ernie.”

“No way! He is not yet President, in fact. I won’t as well support his campaign by personally meeting him. Percy is more than capable of talking to him, I’m confident,” replied Ernie.

“Absolutely,” said Percy with a shade of his trademark pomposity, which Harry was almost relieved to hear. “I will set everything in motion.”

O

In the evening, Quentin had watched for the opportunity when Adnan and Gabriel were not in the the dormitory. “Albus,” he began insistently. “You cannot possibly think of actually going alone into the Forbidden Forest. This whole story with this Resurrection Stone does seem quite obscure. It is much too dangerous! Why isn’t your uncle going in there himself?”

“But he is right!” said Albus hotly. “I owe him that much. Molly’s death is my fault, at least partially. And there is nothing obscure about the Resurrection Stone. I remember my father mentioning it once to my mother. You read it up in all those books yourself, it does really exist! My Uncle Percy fought in the Second Wizarding War, he is definitely in the know about this.”

“But Albus, we’ve been through this,” said Quentin, rolling his eyes. “Nothing you have done would justify to risk your life for a stone which is possibly anywhere hidden in the Forbidden Forest -”

“Oh, come off it,” interrupted Albus. “It can’t be that dangerous. You saw what Uncle Percy wrote, the centaurs would never let harm befall me. I’m just scurrying inside, take the stone, and run back to the castle. Nothing will go wrong.”

Quentin groaned and turned to Scorpius for support. “Scorpius, say something!”

Scorpius looked up from his book in mild surprise. “It’s Albus’ choice, isn’t it? But I don’t think it’s going to be too dangerous, either. Maybe I’ll even accompany him; there must be a lot of interesting plants and animals in the Forest. Why don’t you come, too? You could be our guard, so we don’t have to worry about security.”

Quentin looked as if he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry. He gazed from Albus to Scorpius as if hoping somebody was shouting “April Fool!” When no one did, he just shook his head resignedly.

“How do you want to get there, anyway?” he asked. “I don’t suppose you’re able to make yourself invisible, are you? If you just march towards the Forbidden Forest in broad daylight, a teacher will notice. At the very least Hagrid.”

“Sure,” said Albus calmly. “That’s why I - or we, if Scorpius really wants to come - will do it at night.”

“At _night_?” gasped Quentin. “You want to go into the Forbidden Forest at night? You can’t be serious. Scorpius, you can’t possibly agree to this.”

“Why? In the Forest, it’s dark anyway. Doesn’t really matter if we go there at day or at night,” replied Scorpius matter-of-factly, shrugging.

Quentin collapsed into his bed. “You’re both gone mad,” was to be heard from his pillow. “Completely mad.”

Albus ignored him. “Let’s do it tomorrow night,” he told Scorpius, who nodded happily.

“The earlier it’s over, the better,” he announced.

O

The next day flew by for Albus. He was very excited and eager to enter the Forbidden Forest and retrieve the Resurrection Stone. It was about time he got out of the castle and did something brave. His father had saved the Philosopher’s Stone and fought one of Voldemorts followers in his first year. Albus considered himself magically more capable than any other student in his year; he was yearning for an opportunity to prove himself.

Scorpius seemed also to be looking forward to their adventure, although he was slightly more timid in view of the possible perils that lay ahead of them. Quentin, on the other hand, hadn’t given up and still tried to stir them from their resolve at any given opportunity.

Albus trusted his Uncle Percy’s assurance that no real danger was awaiting him in the forest. Besides, he felt strong and confident. A forest so close to a school could impossibly be _that_ dangerous. And even if something got in their way, he would just transform it or levitate it or use one of the multiple spells and curses he had learned.

After everyone else had gone to bed, Albus, Quentin and Scorpius left the Ravenclaw common room. In his pocket, Albus had stowed the fragile appearing instrument his Uncle Percy had sent him. Quentin, who obviously hoped that they would get cold feet at last minute, started a few last tries to persuade them to return back to the common room. Albus simply ignored him. His mind was completely made up.

When they reached the foot of a staircase, Albus noticed out of the corner of his eye a quick movement from Quentin. A second later, his friend shouted “ _Impedimenta_ ”, his wand aimed at Albus.

Albus reacted without thinking and jumped out of the way, just like Professor Arrington taught him, drew his own wand and cried “ _Petrificus Totalus_!”

His spell was perfectly aimed and struck Quentin at the chest; his arms and legs snapped together and he fell down, stiff like a board.

“Albus!” cried Scorpius. “You have to free him at once!”

“He tried to curse me from behind!” shouted Albus, seething with anger at Quentin.

“But Albus, remember his claustrophobia! He -” Scorpius paused, apparently listening to something. “Someone is coming!”

“Shit,” said Albus. “Around that corner!”

Together, they ran out of sight. “Albus! You have to release Quentin!” hissed Scorpius. Albus turned around, murmured “ _Finite_ ” and finally hurried into the dark corridor, leaning at the wall next to Scorpius and listening anxiously.

“Mr Simiol? What are you doing outside of bed so late?” asked the familiar voice of Professor Longbottom.

Albus’ heart dived. Quentin would tell the teacher everything, they would be caught and everything was lost. A short silence followed. Albus closed his eyes.

“I - I was on my way to the library, Sir,” stammered Quentin timidly. Albus couldn’t believe his ears.

“The library,” repeated Professor Longbottom. “The library is closed now, as I’m sure you know. You aren’t allowed to be out of bed at this hour. Please don’t lie to me!”

“Very well,” sighed Quentin. “I wanted to sneak into the Restricted Section.”

“I heard voices,” said Professor Longbottom sceptically.

“Well, I swore when I heard you coming,” offered Quentin.

“I’ve heard enough,” said Professor Longbottom. “Mr Simiol, I am very disappointed by your behaviour. Fifty points from Ravenclaw and a week of detention. Furthermore, I will write a letter to your parents.”

“No!” cried Quentin desperately. “Please, Sir, give me a month of detention, but don’t write to my father!”

“Don’t you try to negotiate with me about your punishment, Mr Simiol! Off you go, to bed!”

Albus heard footsteps going away and finally dying down. His shoulders slumped in relief. For a while, they both remained leaning at the wall, as if they had been the ones to be petrified. “Well, should we go, then?” asked Scorpius unconfidently.

Albus murmured his consent and followed Scorpius. He was still in shock after Quentin’s performance. He could have told Professor Longbottom about their intentions, he could have told him that he only tried to stop them. Instead, he had chosen to sacrifice himself; now he had gotten himself a week of detention and, to cap it all, Professor Longbottom would write to Quentin’s father, whose reaction Albus didn’t even want to imagine. Suddenly, he felt horrible for what he had done to his friend; his heart surged at pity as he realized that Quentin was not betraying him and Scorpius. It must have been terrible for his friend to be petrified yet again, especially with his claustrophobia-trauma only a few weeks ago.

Shaking off all other thoughts, he concentrated on following Scorpius to the entrance hall. They didn’t meet anyone else, and finally stepped outside through the portal.


	13. The Forbidden Forest

Albus took a deep breath. It was cold outside, very cold. He was glad that he had put on the blue jumper his grandma had given him for Christmas. He had been enthusiastic about finally getting one of the famous Weasley jumpers that Grandma Weasley knitted for all of her grandchildren. All this seemed so far away now, even though it had been only a few weeks ago. Molly' suicide had changed everything. Albus closed his eyes. He had to remain strong now.

"Shouldn't - shouldn't we go back? It's quite dark, after all, and cold," said Scorpius, who was shivering, tentatively.

Albus opened his eyes again, which made hardly a difference, of course, as it was pitch-black. The moon was a crescent and gave only a faint light.

"No! We've come this far. Now we stay the course!" he hissed sharply. How could his friends be so weak? Although, he reminded himself, Quentin had protected them, hazarding the consequences. Scorpius seemed to have recognized Albus' angry undertone and flinched.

"Look," said Albus in a more conciliatory voice. "You can of course go back into the castle if you want. But there is nothing dangerous about the darkness, and if we keep moving, we'll be warm soon enough."

Scorpius seemed to pull himself together. "Sure," he said, although his voice sounded somewhat tremulous. "Let's go.  _Lumos_."

Albus followed his example and lit his wand as well. Together, they started walking towards Hagrid's hut. They had decided to take that way because it would be the easiest to find in the darkness. Hagrid would surely be asleep at this hour, so it wouldn't be difficult to sneak past his hut and enter the Forbidden Forest.

It was more difficult than expected to find the right way in the darkness. More than once, they took a wrong fork and ended up at the Quidditch pitch or at the Black Lake. Eventually, however, they managed to break out in the right direction and reached Hagrid's hut. The windows were dark; Hagrid seemed indeed to be sleeping.

Carefully, they passed the hut and climbed through Hagrid's various patches. They had almost reached the edge of the Forest, when Scorpius suddenly lost his balance and toppled over one of Hagrid's most gorgeous pumpkins. He ruggedly hit the ground and yelped quietly. It had not been a loud noise, but in the hut, something immediately started to rustle. A second later, shrill barking pervaded the air.

Albus and Scorpius looked at each other, frozen in shock.

"Fang? Wha's the matter?" rumbled Hagrid's muffled voice from inside the hut. Fang continued barking as if his life depended on it. "C'mon, Fang, m'boy, we go outside and look if there is anything wrong, agreed?"

Heavy steps approached the backdoor that led right outside to the pumpkin patch Albus and Scorpius were standing on.

"Run, Albus," whispered Scorpius. "Finish your mission. I will stop Hagrid. Otherwise, Fang will sniff us out at once. Run!"

Albus didn't need to be told twice and stormed behind the first trees, carefully avoiding the last pumpkins. Not a second too early; he heard the backdoor of Hagrid's hut open, which increased the penetrating sound of Fang's barking.

"Good morning, Hagrid," said Scorpius matter-of-factly, as if there was nothing more normal than standing in the gamekeeper's pumpkin patch in the middle of the night.

Hagrid appeared into Albus' sight. He was carrying a lantern and life-threatening looking crossbow. Next to him scurried a very nervous Fang.

"Ma'foy?" Hagrid asked disbelievingly, lowering his crossbow. "What are  _you_  doin' here?"

"My cat has vanished," said Scorpius, credibly pretending despair. "I went outside to search it, but I couldn't find it, it got dark and I went astray. I am so glad I found your hut! Can you help me to find the way back to the castle? I'm freezing."

Albus, had to restrain himself not to laugh out loudly. He was very sceptical if Hagrid would buy this story. Hagrid didn't seem to know himself if he should believe Scorpius or not, and stood there clueless. Scorpius, on the other hand, approached Fang and carefully petted the boarhound, who seemed to enjoy this a lot. This seemed to convince Hagrid, obviously still stunned by this turning of the events, of Scorpius' sincerity. He gathered himself and said, "very well, Scorpius, follow me, I will take you back to the castle. An' don' think of leavin' your bed at night because of your  _cat_! It's dangerous!"

"Agreed, Sir," said Scorpius brightly and followed Hagrid, still playing with Fang. Their steps departed, and Albus was left alone. Relieved, he breathed out and turned around, facing the dark forest. Suddenly, he didn't feel very brave anymore, on the contrary; he began to ask himself if this mission wasn't pure madness. Surely, there were many dangerous creatures out there, and who would protect him? How was he even supposed to find a way to the Stone, always provided, that Percy's instrument would indeed work? And hadn't his father explicitly warned to stray near the forest at night? For a moment, he seriously considered to return to the castle as well and go to bed again. But then he remembered what Scorpius and especially Quentin had done to protect him from being detected; he couldn't cancel the whole mission after that. Albus took another deep breath and began walking into the Forbidden Forest.

O

"Very well. Is there anything left to speak about?" asked Ernie.

"Yes, there is," said Hermione forcefully. "Professor McGonagall, Professor Arrington, we have strong indications that Firenze's murderer is inside Hogwarts. The situation is extremely dangerous and the students' safety not ensured. We have to do something about that."

Professor Arrington leaned back. "What do you suggest?"

"Interrogate suspicious teachers. Unheralded. And we will start with Tyron Smethwyck. I have always distrusted him; his intentions are obscure to me. He is unfriendly and solitary. Why did he leave the Auror office? He doesn't seem to be the teaching type, is he? So why did he take the post at Hogwarts? Is he hiding something? And according to Professor Arrington, he sometimes leaves the castle. We will interrogate him, with Legilimency, if it should turn out to be necessary."

Arrington snorted.

" _Interrogate_  him?  _Legilimency_? Do you actually know him, Madam Weasley? Tyron won't let anybody interrogate him, and obviously he is a very strong Occlumens."

Ernie frowned. "It's not as if we had to ask for his permission. The Ministry of Magic has the monopoly on legitimate use of magical force, after all."

Arrington laughed. "You're completely insane. Or just naïve. You honestly think, Tyron Smethwyck would subjugate himself to Legilimency? Then I hope you know, Mr Potter, that Tyron could duel your whole Auror Office at once and would most probably win. We are talking about one of the most powerful wizards of our time! Besides, I'm sure Tyron is innocent."

Unfortunately, Harry couldn't help but agree with Arrington's judgement of the plan to question Smethwyck. But he wasn't sure that he was innocent at all, and besides, didn't like the way Arrington was talking to such high-ranked officials as Ernie or Hermione.

"And you know this  _because_?" he asked sharply, leaning forward.

Arrington took a deep breath. "Very well. I suppose I should tell you the whole story. Otherwise you won't believe me anyway." He cleared his throat and took a sip of water.

"Firstly, you must know that Tyron and I were classmates at Hogwarts. I was a Ravenclaw, whereas Tyron was sorted into Gryffindor. From the beginning of our school days, I was brilliant in everything I did. I excelled in every subject; many teachers started to favour me. At that time, I was not exactly modest, as well. Tyron, on the other hand, was a natural duellist from a very young age. No one, not even I, could match his skills in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Apart from that, however, Tyron's performance was only mediocre. He wasn't that bad, of course, and eventually got enough OWLs and NEWTs to become an Auror anyway. But his performance in, say, Transfiguration or Charms, was nothing in comparison with mine. Tyron had always a very strong self-concept, he couldn't bear to be anything but the best. He was highly envious of me; on the other hand, he was arrogant because of his superiority in Defence Against the Dark Arts. But don't get me wrong, this arrogance didn't prevent him of working hard. No, Tyron surely was never a lazy person. Often, he defied me to duels; I confess that I redoubled my efforts to become a master duellist. I knew I couldn't match Tyron's natural power, his high-energetic spells, so I learned to influence my environment, transforming or enchanting it. I invented new spells, to surprise Tyron; in short, I did everything in my power to defeat him in that one field he was superior. Of course, Tyron did the same. We both had outstanding magical talent, and with our massive efforts, we both became master duellists. We were rivals, hard rivals, and although we always respected each other's skills, I disliked Tyron, to say the least, and he hated me. We were clever enough not to get caught by teachers during our duels, although I'm absolutely sure that Dumbledore must have known. Down to the present day, it's a complete mystery to me why he didn't do anything about it. Our duels were of course not on life and death, but they were nevertheless very dangerous. We both tried out new and brutal spells, if one of us had made a mistake, the huge energy that was released in our fights could have killed us. Thank god, we were never seriously hurt. Then, in our fifth year, something occurred I will never forget. Tyron's friends, I won't tell you their names here, attacked me. It was a well-thought ambush, I had no chance. They humiliated and tormented me, with a brutality I would never have expected from 15-year-olds, and certainly not from Gryffindors. It would not have taken much for me to be permanently harmed. Tyron came around and saw what they were doing. Our eyes met, and I feared he would help his friends torturing me, or even kill me on the spot. At that time, our rivalry was culminant. He was certainly clever enough to make it look like an accident. Instead, Tyron drew his wand and without further ado massacred his own, longtime friends. The fight was short; after ten seconds, none of them was conscious anymore. He took me to the hospital wing and left without a word. His friends were expelled. Down to the present day, none of us ever mentioned this incident again."

Arrington looked tired, and took another sip of water. Everyone in the room was listening, mesmerized.

"Years passed by, and our relationship didn't change, although we were rarely fighting any more. For the most time, we avoided each other. Minerva became my mentor and helped me to become an Animagus. Tyron and I both achieved great results in the OWLs and NEWTs, then I went on a world tour and did magical research, whereas Tyron joined the Auror Office. Shortly after, Voldemort returned and the Second Wizarding War began. I was travelling around the world and wasn't involved at all, but Tyron was suddenly right at the midst of it. The Auror Office was in a state of pure chaos, it completely broke apart, but you know that definitely better than I do. To be honest, I was very happy to have an excuse not to be in Britain at that time. I had no family anymore, my parents had died a few years before. Tyron's father, Hippocrates Smethwyck, a healer at St Mungo's, opposed the new regime diplomatically. The Smethwycks are a pure-blood family, but Tyron never showed any prejudices against Muggle-borns. I don't know how he thought about Muggles, but one of the few things Tyron and I always agreed on, was that the whole 'purity of blood' discussion was utter nonsense. No, Tyron didn't share the Death Eaters' views, but when his family was in danger, and Scrimgeour and Robards completely lost control, he stopped actively fighting the Death Eaters and confined himself to protecting his family. Tyron had never gotten along with Kingsley Shacklebolt and thus kept distance to the Order of the Phoenix as well. This was somewhat tragic, because, although he had just started being a full Auror, Tyron would have been a real challenge to the Dark Lord in a duel. He could have helped the good side a great deal; although he would never admit it, I think today he regrets that he remained passive during the war. When everything was over, when Mr Potter had managed the impossible and taken down the Dark Lord, I returned to Britain and took a teaching post at Hogwarts, whereas Tyron returned to the Auror Office. Kingsley Shacklebolt became the new Minister of Magic, as you all know. He was reluctant to employ him again, but he didn't really have a choice, as there was a massive lack of Aurors shortly after the war. Mr Potter did the only right thing and revolutionized the Auror Office, and I think Tyron never got really along with the new generation of Aurors. He wanted to delve further into the research of magical duelling; besides he wanted to prove more to himself than to anyone else that he was capable of being a polymath, being a Professor at Hogwarts. Minerva needed a new teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Tyron was the perfect candidate. Of course, he has a very headstrong concept of magic, he is sometimes unfair to students and teaching isn't fun for him. But he enjoys being left alone from the wizarding community and concentrates on further honing his duelling abilities. But I deem it utterly out of question that he is responsible for the murder of Firenze. Since I know him, Tyron never used Unforgivable curses. As far as I know, he never killed anyone, at least not on purpose. Although he hated me, although he desperately wanted to beat me in every duel, he never attacked me from behind or tricked me. No, it wouldn't suit Tyron at all to suddenly steal a colleague's wand and kill a centaur. Although I don't like him, I am sure that Tyron Smethwyck is on the right side, on our side, and I think he would be an extremely powerful ally. Please don't evoke hostility in him. That would really be a stupid thing to do."

Everyone was silent for a while after this speech. Arrington had the ability to capture everyone's imagination, when he was speaking; Harry was really impressed that the Transfiguration teacher had shared this story with them.

Hermione seemed to be less impressed. "And what do you suggest to do instead?" she asked briskly.

Professor Arrington just wanted to say something, when he suddenly flinched. "What is it, Aaron?" asked Professor McGonagall, who had noticed his motion.

"One of my enchantments alerted me," murmured Arrington. "Somebody who is not Hagrid has entered the Forbidden Forest. Probably it's nothing, but I still should return to Hogwarts for good measure. Excuse me." With this, he got up and rushed out of the room.

O

The teacher saw the boy going to the Forest. The teacher knew of the goblins' complot to capture the Potter boy. Of course, the teacher had no intention to tolerate a tug o' war between the goblins and the Ministry, on the contrary. The teacher hated goblins and would love to eradicate their whole species. Unfortunately, the teacher needed the goblins as a chaos-causing force. But the teacher surely didn't want them to achieve a more influential position in the magical world. No, the teacher would let them capture the boy and inform the Ministry about it, to cause confusion and desperation. But then, the teacher would intervene. The detergent chaos would only come if tougher measures were taken. The teacher shrouded the face and set off towards the forest.

O

Albus looked at the instrument he held in his hands. It was like a compass, with a needle pointing in a particular direction. According to Uncle Percy, it had been developed in the Department of Mysteries. Albus wondered how it worked. How could it detect something as small as a stone, something it never got even in contact with? He just went into the direction the needle was indicating, although he tried to stay on beaten paths as far as possible. Everything was quiet, ghostly quiet. Nothing crossed his way; no centaurs, no wild animals, no Acrumantulas and no werewolves. Albus interpreted this as a good sign; he had expected to meet at the very least more animals because of the light his wand was emitting.

He had completely lost his sense of time and location long ago; he had to be deep inside the forest. For the first time, he wondered how he would find his way out again. The instrument he was carrying would be useless once he had found the stone, and there was no way to get help without alerting the whole forest that he was there. Panic began to reach him, when suddenly the instrument's needle started to rotate quickly.

Albus stopped dead in his tracks and examined the ground. Right in front of him lay a small stone with an engraved sign. Albus picked it up; this was undoubtedly the Resurrection Stone. He had done it.

His joy didn't last long. Suddenly, yellow, slanted eyes appeared all around him. Albus whirled around and realized that he stood in the midst of a circle of around 30 goblins. Some of them were carrying lanterns, and all of them had knifes at the ready.

"Welcome, Albus Severus Potter," said a cruel, malicious voice. "We have expected you."


	14. Fight

Albus gulped. The small, dark shapes standing around him with daggers in their hands looked quite awesome. Although he was surely filled with fear, it didn't paralyze him. Albus racked his brain for any spells he had learned which could be useful in this situation, but nothing came to his mind. Which spell could possibly work against so many enemies? In addition, there was something else pressing his mind.

"You expected me?" he asked in disbelief. "But my Uncle Percy…"

Some goblins cackled cruelly. The malicious voice, coming from one of the goblins, who was apparently something of a leader, answered him.

"Your beloved Uncle Percy has no idea of all this, you stupid child. Do you think it is beyond our capabilities to fake a letter?"

Automatically, Albus glanced down at the Stone and the instrument in his hands.

"Ah," said the malicious goblin. "Yes, our Magimeter is quite useful, isn't it? And yes, before you ask, this is the actual Resurrection Stone. If you might please give it back? It's quite valuable, you know," he canted.

Albus was shocked. Everything had been a trap all along. Quentin had been right; the whole mission was madness. Albus still had no clue how he could possibly escape the goblins. To win time, he kept the conversation alive.

"So it all was a trap?" he asked, concealing the fear in his voice with difficulty. "What do you want to do with me?"

"Beyond your understanding," answered the malicious goblin disdainfully. "Now, enough talking, hand over the Magimeter, the Stone and, last but not least, your wand. Now."

But Albus had thought of something else, and he wanted to stretch the conversation anyway. "What about Molly? Did you kill her, too?"

"Maybe, maybe not," hissed the malicious goblin indifferently. "Now, your wand, or we use our daggers."

Albus hesitated. He was very reluctant to hand over his wand; it felt like a part of him. On the other hand, the goblins definitely looked as though they meant business.

Desperately, he threw the fragile-looking instrument as far as he could between the trees. Without hesitating, he threw the Resurrection Stone at full power in the opposite direction. He didn't really expect much from it, but there was still the slight chance that the goblins would be distracted for a moment.

Their reaction was different, however. None of them moved to go after the Magimeter or the Stone, but many of them hissed angrily or came a little closer, their daggers threateningly brandished.

"The game is over, Potter," said the malicious goblin. "Now hand over your wand, or we will kill you, as we did with your beloved Uncle Percy's wife, in case you remember."

Albus' inner conflict culminated. A part of him was screeching to hand over the wand, as the goblins were definitely capable of killing him. But the other part of him, a part that was getting stronger and stronger, told him that it had been only his own idiocy that had brought him in this situation. Maybe it was just defiance; maybe it was the desire to be brave like his father, the desire to prove himself; maybe it was the rational thought that the goblins wouldn't kill him in any case, as they obviously wanted him alive. Maybe it was for Molly, in case the goblins really killed her in some way. Probably it was a mixture.

He looked around. One of the goblins was cowering on a branch of the nearest tree. Strangely enough, for a split second, it reminded Albus of a monkey, a baboon. He met his final decision and pulled his wand out of his pocket. He raised it and performed the spell coming to his mind, gathering all his willpower.

" _Lumos Solem!"_

A blazing light erupted from his wand and everything went white. Albus had been ready for it and kept his eyes firmly closed, concentrating hard on maintaining the spell. The goblins shrieked in agony; obviously, the glaring light afflicted them a lot more than Albus. He didn't hesitate for a second and blindly stormed into the direction where the fewest goblins had been. Bodies of goblins bumped against him; Albus even felt a dagger scratching his side, but he didn't stop and continued running for his life, while holding his wand upwards and maintaining the Sunlight Charm, although he slowly started to tire.

He ended the Charm and after about a minute running blindly through the undergrowth as fast as he could, accidentally bumping against a few trees on his way, Albus finally paused, panting. He didn't have the energy left to run any longer; the Sunlight Charm had drained him additionally. He felt a stinging pain in his side. Apparently, the wound the goblin's knife had caused was deeper than he had initially expected, it was bleeding quite briskly.

At least, he couldn't hear the angry shouts and screams of the goblins anymore. Still, they couldn't be too far, and no doubt they had already started searching for him. He had to get out of this forest as fast as possible, that much was obvious; however, Albus had no idea where he was. The moon gave a faint light, but Albus assumed that he was still deep in the forest. If he could only alert his father or anyone at Hogwarts to rescue him; alas, every try to call attention to himself would only attract the goblins or anything even worse, whatever was luring in this forest.

It made no sense to stumble around through the forest anymore, not knowing where the castle was. Albus saw only one possibility: He had to find a good hideout and wait for the sunrise. The treetops seemed to be a suitable place; there, he would be reasonably safe from the goblins and other wild animals. Furthermore, he would maybe be able to see the castle, if the tree was high enough. Glad to have a plan, Albus set off to look for a preferably high tree to climb up.

O

The teacher saw the blinding light and heard the screams of the goblins. Obviously, the boy had escaped by himself. That was impressive; actually, the teacher himself had planned to distract the goblins with an extra-strong Sunlight Charm, as they liked the darkness and couldn't cope with too much light. The boy's flight would make things a lot easier; the teacher concentrated for a moment and cast a very powerful Bait Charm, which would lure the goblins in the completely wrong direction. Not that those filthy monkeys were any threat, but the teacher still preferred not to be interrupted.

Now the teacher only had to find the Potter boy. He couldn't have gone very far; besides, he hadn't made any effort to cover his tracks. It would be a very simple task to chase him down, and finally kill him. The teacher had already planned everything; when the boy was dead, the teacher would disfigure his corpse and exhibit it publicly. The teacher only had yet to decide whether Diagon Alley or the entrance of the Ministry of Magic was the better place. In any case, chaos would finally erupt.

O

Albus was slowly getting desperate. He had tried to climb on a promising tree several times, but without any success. Albus had never been good at climbing, and his wound, which was now bleeding stronger than ever, had proved extremely obstructive. Unfortunately, he didn't know any useful spells to make his task easier, either. Not that he hadn't tried out this and that; he had even cast "Wingardium Leviosa" on himself, to fly to the treetop. However, he had failed spectacularly; the spell had thrown him a few feet in the air, before he had fallen to the ground most painfully.

The only good thing that could be said about his situation, was that the goblins were nowhere to be seen. Albus was extremely relieved about this circumstance, as he strongly doubted he would be able to escape them for a second time. Still, this feeling was phenomenally outweighed by exhaustion, pain and desperation. He had lost any feeling for time, and he had no idea where he was. It was still pretty cold.

He continued stumbling through the forest, almost in trance. After what felt like hours, he sat down in the shrubs. Had Quentin and Scorpius alerted a teacher by now? Albus hoped so; it seemed his only chance to get out of this cursed forest one day. But there was also a fair chance that they still didn't want him to get caught and gave him the chance to return unnoticed.

Slowly, the sun started to rise. Relief rushed through his veins; the darkness had been extremely annoying. With new courage, he got up. Maybe he would be able to find a way out of the forest now. He had hardly set off, when a cloaked figure appeared in front of him. Thankfully, it seemed to be a man, a teacher - he was saved. Obviously, Quentin and Scorpius had finally alerted someone at the castle. The man stepped into the light, and Albus recognized the lanky figure at once: It was his Potions teacher, Professor Pyrites.

"Professor!" cried Albus. Professor Pyrites turned to face him. Slowly, he drew his wand and directed it at Albus.

"Sir…?"

" _Avada Kedavra!_ " shouted Pyrites instantly.

A jet of green light flew at Albus, who instinctively dived out of the way. Just like Professor Arrington had taught him, he watched Pyrites' movements and also avoided a second and a third Killing Curse.

Albus knew that he wouldn't be able to dodge the spells much longer; he was still extremely tired, and the wound at his side was starting to hurt again. He couldn't believe it - first the goblins, and now Professor Pyrites? Had the whole world turned against him?

Suddenly, thin cords shot from Pyrites' wand, and next moment, Albus was bound hand and foot. Desperately, he struggled against his bonds, but he couldn't move at all.

"You're quite a piece of work, Albus Potter," hissed Pyrites. "Oh yes, absolutely. But now you will die, won't you? Indeed!  _Avada Kedavra!_ "

" _Induco Magnetum!_ " shouted another, very familiar voice. The jet of green light from Pyrites' wand curved in the air and struck a nearby tree, which burst into flames. " _Relashio!_ "

The cords came loose, and Albus whirled around. Professor Arrington stood behind him, his wand directed at Pyrites, his face white with anger.

"Arrington," snarled Pyrites. "Now I have to bring the big guns in.  _Ignis Daemonis!_ "

Flames of abnormally large size appeared with a roaring, billowing noise and shot towards Albus and Professor Arrington. They took the shape of fiery monsters and beasts such as snakes, dragons, eagles and chimaeras, constantly mutating into other beasts. Arrington quickly leaped in front of Albus and wielded his wand like a whip.

" _Partis Temporus!_ "

The flames parted in front of Arrington and rushed past them, consuming large parts of their environment and spreading in all directions.

Albus feared that the fire would be completely out of control soon, and apparently Pyrites shared that feeling, as he whispered something Albus didn't understand and drew the flames back into his wand. Arrington took the chance and quickly cast a Patronus; the huge, silver American eagle rose high into the air and flew away. Pyrites, who had by now miraculously removed the Fiendfyre, fired a spell at the Patronus, but it soared right through the silver eagle, who was already almost out of sight, leaving it unscathed.

Pyrites cried out in anger and began firing spells at Arrington, who delved into the duel with the same energy. Albus had already seen a few duels; his father had sometimes taken him to watch duelling tournaments. Once, he had even seen his father himself taking down a dark wizard who had tried to invade their house. None of this duels, however, had come even close to resemble the fight he was witnessing now. Arrington's reflexes were excellent, but Pyrites moved so fast that Albus could barely see it. None of them was speaking the incantations loudly, so Albus didn't really recognize what exactly they were doing.

Suddenly, Pyrites shouted an incantation, and Arrington and Albus were thrown back by an incredibly forceful blast of air.

"Albus! Get out of the line of fire! Hide, but don't run away!" shouted Arrington.

Quickly, Albus ran behind a huge tree and anxiously peeked around it to watch the duel. Arrington seemed to be struggling to hold himself. Pyrites moved with inhuman speed and fired continuously jets of light or flashes at the Transfiguration teacher, who somehow managed not get hit by a single of them, dodging or blocking them and often transforming branches and other objects in his environment to impede Pyrites' spells. Nevertheless, he was clearly on the defensive; he had no time to start attacks on his own, and Albus feared that if the duel continued like that, his resistance would sooner or later crumble.

"Potter!" squeaked a voice behind Albus, who whirled around. At first, he was shocked, because the tiny figure that had appeared behind him distantly resembled a goblin. Then he noticed, however, that it was none other than Professor Flitwick, who hurried towards him, his wand at the ready.

"Mr Potter! Who is the good guy here?" asked Flitwick, pointing at the fight, where Pyrites had just sent a jagged lightning at Arrington. The Transfiguration teacher stopped it in mid-air, somehow reshaped it and sent it back at Pyrites, who had to leap out of the way in order to not get knocked over by the pulse of energy.

"Pyrites tried to kill me! Professor Arrington saved me!" shouted Albus. "You have to help him, Professor!"

But Flitwick was already running past Albus to join Professor Arrington. His spell hit a tree directly next to Pyrites. The tree immediately came to life; its branches were already reaching out for Pyrites, while its roots were trying to trip him up. Pyrites snarled angrily, quickly dodged a curse from Arrington and set the tree on fire. Almost simultaneously, he shot a glaring jet of purple light at Flitwick, who was caught completely off-guard by the Potions master's incredible speed and didn't react in time. The purple flash struck him right at the chest, and he collapsed lifelessly to the ground.

"NO!" cried Albus and was already on the way to the Charms Professor, when a Killing Curse missed him only by a hairbreadth.

"Stay were you are, Albus!" yelled Arrington, sounding highly stressed. Albus hurried back behind his huge tree, which Pyrites set on fire at once. Albus yelped and jumped backwards, when suddenly the earth started to shake. Albus was knocked to the ground; from the corner of his eye, he could see that Pyrites and Arrington had also lost their balance. The Transfiguration master quickly changed into his Animagus form, an American eagle, and flew to Albus, settling right in front of him. Around them was an inferno of flames; the fire had already spread to nearby trees. Behind Pyrites, who had gotten back to his feet, appeared Tyron Smethwyck.

A loud noise erupted from Smethwyck's wand, and a jet of black light soared from behind towards Pyrites, who once again displayed an insanely fast reaction and dived it not a moment too soon. Arrington, who had transformed back into his human form, raised his wand again, at the same time with Smethwyck. Pyrites seemed to realise that his situation was getting difficult, moved his arms like a whirlwind, his cloak billowing, and - vanished.

Arrington quickly made complicated wand movements and silently performed a few spells. "He's gone!" he shouted. "I have no idea how, but he isn't anywhere near us anymore!" With this, he grabbed Albus, levitated the unconscious Professor Flitwick in the air and dragged them away from the flames, which Smethwyck was just trying to control. Arrington joined him, and together they managed to eventually put out the fire.

Smethwyck growled irritably. "Where has he gone?"

"No idea," said Arrington, looking startled as well. "As far as I can feel, Minerva didn't lift any of the wards. Every kind of magical transport should be impossible. We haven't left the school grounds. This is really worrying. If he can get out as easy as this, he might as well be able to get in. But be that as it may, we have to return to the castle at once. I'm worried about Filius."

Smethwyck grunted. "We should be careful. Pyrites might have allies in the castle, or come back himself."

Albus shook off his temporary state of shock. "Sir! There are still goblins around! I just barely escaped them, before I met Pyrites."

Smethwyck snorted dismissively. "As if goblins would be any threat after this madman! I'm worried about wizards, boy, about Killing Curses fired at you, not about a couple of  _goblins_!"

"Still, goblins in the forest are certainly no good news," murmured Professor Arrington. "But we'll talk about all that in length - when we are back at the castle. But you're right, Tyron - we must be very careful. Minerva is right now the only person at Hogwarts we can trust, before we have clarified this."

Together, they set off and soon left the forest. Albus was very relieved to see the castle again, after he had been desperately stuck between trees for hours. Arrington lead them to a side entrance behind the greenhouses.

"We should make sure, that Longbottom isn't in the proximity," said Smethwyck. "He often roves about here at this time."

"You mean Neville? Surely we can trust him?" asked Albus disbelievingly.

To his surprise, it was Professor Arrington who answered.

"Tyron is right, we shouldn't take any risk. Everyone could be under the Imperius Curse; Neville has children, he might have been extorted - not that I consider that likely, of course," he added, when he saw the shocked expression on Albus' face.

"But, then - how can we sure that Professor McGonagall isn't under the Imperius Curse, too?" asked Albus.

"Because it would be an entirely hopeless endeavour to try to cast the Imperius Curse on Minerva McGonagall," answered Professor Arrington simply.

"Indeed," growled Smethwyck. "Although I must say I'm surprised you sent the Patronus to me of all people, Aaron. I didn't think the day would come  _you_  would ask for  _my_  help."

Arrington only snorted and led them into a corridor Albus had never seen so far. They finally reached a wall in front of them, but Arrington murmured something incomprehensible, and the wall had gone. Moments later, they stood in front of the gargoyle, which guarded the Headmistress' office.

"Isobel," said Professor Arrington, and the gargoyle jumped aside. They climbed up the staircase and reached the door to the office. Arrington knocked.

"Come in," said Professor McGonagall.

Quickly, they entered the office and carefully closed the door behind them. Smethwyck at once drew his wand and silently performed spells.

"Oh, Aaron, it's you and - what's the matter with Filius? And may I ask, what you are doing, Professor Smethwyck?" asked Professor McGonagall, surveying the still unconscious Professor Flitwick, Albus' ragged cloak, Professor Arringtons multiple bruises and Smethwyck's spellwork with a very surprised expression.

"Tyron is setting up some extra security for this room. I honestly don't know what exactly is the matter with Filius," said Professor Arrington. "It was Pyrites, Minerva. Pyrites attacked Albus in the Forbidden Forest, I came just in time to save him. Then Filius came to help me - I don't know how he knew what was happening, I had only sent a Patronus to Tyron - but Pyrites hit him with a purple jet of light, and Filius was knocked out. We have to get him to St Mungo's at once! He is obviously not dead, but a simple ' _Enervate'_  didn't work either. I thought you might create a portkey from this office here to St Mungo's; that would be the fastest way to get him there. Everything else can wait."

Professor McGonagall seemed to have about a thousand questions, but she pulled herself together, nodded and summoned an old hat. She pointed her wand at it and clearly said " _Portus._ "

The hat starting glowing blue and shivered slightly.

"Professor Smethwyck, may I ask you to take Filius to St Mungo's?" said Professor McGonagall.

Smethwyck grunted, grabbed with the left hand Professor Flitwick, with the right hand the portkey and vanished.

Professor McGonagall turned to Albus and Professor Arrington and sighed.

"You are the third generations of Potters I witness attending Hogwarts, Potter, and you seem to have the same tendency to get into trouble like your father and grandfather. What in Merlin's beard happened?"

"I would like to know this, as well, Albus," said Professor Arrington. "How did you get to the forest at the first place?"

Albus breathed deeply and regretted it instantly, as the wound at his side hurt again.

"Hospital wing, Potter," said Professor McGonagall promptly, but Professor Arrington shook his head.

"Absolutely not," he said sharply, drew his wand and aimed it at Albus' wound. " _Tergeo! Vulnera Sanentur - Vulnera Sanentur - Vulnera Sanentur._ "

The deep cut healed rapidly by itself.

"Thanks," said Albus relieved.

"Well, then at least sit down, Potter, you look like you are going to collapse any moment," said Professor McGonagall, and Albus gratefully took a seat.

He told them everything, beginning with the faked letter and the goblins' instrument, Quentin trying to stop him, Scorpius holding up Hagrid. He described how he had found the Resurrection Stone and how he had gotten away from the goblins.

"And then," he finished, after giving account of his odyssey through the Forbidden Forest, "then Professor Pyrites appeared and fired Killing Curses at me, but I managed to dodge them. Then he conjured ropes and bound me and finally wanted to kill me, but Professor Arrington appeared and somehow made his curse crash into a tree instead of me."

Professor Arrington immediately took over. "I can tell the story from here," he said.

"I used Magnetism, Minerva. Remember my research on this subject last year? I transfigured the tree into a magnet, so the curse curved in mid-air and hit the tree. Then Pyrites conjured Fiendfyre - I think that answers who is responsible for the assault on the Hogwarts Express. And, by the way, probably also who killed Firenze. Anyway, I used  _Partis Temporus_  to save us, and Pyrites almost lost control of the Fiendfyre and called it back. And then - then we duelled."

"Philandros… I can't believe it… And he escaped?" asked Professor McGonagall.

Professor Arrington snorted. "Hardly. He attacked me like a madman, Minerva, and he almost took me down! You should have seen him - I don't know how he managed to move that fast, he must have cast a few dangerous spells on himself - at least, I had managed to send a Patronus to Tyron. That was, frankly, my only hope, because I don't know how much longer I could have defended myself, let alone Albus. Pyrites is really incredibly powerful."

"If you only sent a Patronus to Professor Smethwyck, then what about Filius?"

"That's really a good question," answered Professor Arrington.

"Probably Quentin and Scorpius alerted him," interjected Albus. "They must have been worried because I didn't return, and Professor Flitwick is our Head of House."

"That makes sense," agreed Professor Arrington. "Filius cast a spell at a tree, which immediately attacked Pyrites. Really impressive charmwork, I must say. Unfortunately, Pyrites reacted quicker than I would have thought any human possibly could and practically simultaneously dodged the branches, avoided my spells, set the tree on fire and cursed Filius. Eventually, Tyron arrived and Pyrites miraculously vanished into thin air. Once again, I have no idea how. I only hope that he can't come back to the grounds as easily as he got away. That's it."

Professor McGonagall remained silent for some time, visibly struggling to digest what Albus and Arrington had told her. Finally, she said, "we must alert the Ministry. We need a broad investigation at once. Auror protection. Who knows who else is involved in this. And something has to be done about those goblins. No one can leave the castle for now."

Professor Arrington nodded. "I will lock the portals and go to the Ministry at once to talk to Madam Granger and Mr Potter about it. Although I doubt that any of his Aurors would last longer than ten seconds against Pyrites. And I will leave a Patronus for Tyron. Maybe he knows a few additional wards against magical transportation."

"Very well. Then I have time to floo to St Mungo's now and visit Filius, before Harry arrives" answered Professor McGonagall.

"Be careful. You are one of the leaders of the Wizarding World, Minerva. They might aim for you as well," said Arrington.

Professor McGonagall's mouth became very thin. "I should hope that I'm not such an ancient invalid that you consider it unsafe for me to enter a  _hospital_ , Aaron," she said coldly. "As for you, Potter, you will be pleased to hear that you are just like your father. Still, your behaviour was unbelievably foolish. Professor Flitwick is seriously injured because of your complete lack of judgement. You are very lucky to be alive. I will decide about your punishment later. For now, you go to the hospital wing."

With this, she raised her wand, and a Patronus in the form of a tabby cat ran out of her office. "I'm calling for Professor Longbottom," explained Professor McGonagall. "He will escort you to the hospital wing and make sure that no one penetrates there. Don't be ridiculous, Aaron, he's Albus' godfather."

A minute later, Neville arrived. Obviously he had run the whole distance to Professor McGonagall's office, as he was panting and sweating. Arrington drew his wand and aimed straight at Neville. "What is the title of the book in which you read about gillyweed for the first time? Answer me!"

"Er - 'Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean'," answered Neville hastily.

" _Induco Patronum!_ " said Professor Arrington, still pointing his wand at Neville. "Just in case you had been under the Imperius Curse," he explained.

"What? I - Headmistress? Is everyone alright? What happened?" gasped Neville.

"Pyrites ran amok, Filius is at St Mungo's, but we can talk about that later. For now, Professor Longbottom, please escort Mr Potter to the hospital wing and stay there, make sure that no one gets inside. I expect that Harry and a few Aurors will arrive soon," said Professor McGonagall.

"All - all right," said Neville puzzled and put a hand on Albus' shoulder. "Come on, lad," he said. "Let's get you to the hospital wing. You look terrible."

Gratefully, Albus followed his godfather to the hospital wing. "You can tell me everything later," said Neville. "For now, you need rest."

Albus took the potion for dreamless sleep that Madam Pomfrey gave him - the last thing he thought was that its purple colour looked quite ugly - before he finally fell asleep.


	15. The Aftermath

"Harry," began Proudfoot, looking slightly exasperated. "I have told you, Harry, we did find the traces of the Fiendfyre near the Hogwarts Express and we tried every Tracking Spell we could possibly think of, but somehow, every trace is lost into nowhere."

"Sounds like magic," said Ron, chuckling.

Harry threw him an annoyed look. "This is not funny, Ron," he groaned. "It's clear that this guy must be hiding at a place with incredibly strong magical protection. But that this hideout resists the concentrated methods of the Ministry, that is really disturbing. I don't know how a single person could possibly pull off such a feat. There must be more behind it. I still think that there must be a connection to all those goblin murders, the happenings at Hogwarts and Francois Simiol. Everything is somehow linked, I'm sure of it."

Proudfoot just wanted to answer, when everyone was distracted by a huge, silver American eagle flying into the Auror office. With Professor Arrington's voice, it began to speak.

"Mr Potter, come to Hogwarts as fast as you can. Bring one or two Aurors you can completely trust. My office. The floo password is 'Magnetism'."

With this, the silver eagle vanished into thin air.

Harry, Ron and Proudfoot looked at each other. "Something has happened," said Harry. "Ron, the two of us floo to Arrington. Peter, you're in charge here. There might be more trouble coming, a problem comes never alone."

Proudfoot nodded, and Harry and Ron stepped into the fireplace and spoke the password to Professor Arrington's office.

They had just barely arrived there, when a voice shouted " _Impedimenta_!" Ron was immediately immobilised, whereas Harry was looking straight into the tip of Professor Arrington's wand.

"Draw your wand, Mr Potter, slowly, and cast your Patronus for verification of your identity. Only your Patronus. I warn you - don't try anything."

Harry slowly took his wand, clearly said " _Expecto Patronum!_ " and the silver stag erupted from its tip. Arrington nodded, satisfied, and subjected Ron to the same procedure.

"Heaven, Arrington," panted Ron, when his Jack-Russell-Terrier had vanished. "Aren't you overdoing it a bit? Is this war, or what?"

"You can't be careful enough," said the Transfiguration Master calmly. "Not after tonight's happenings."

Without further ado, Professor Arrington told Harry and Ron everything about Albus' trip into the Forbidden Forest and his own duel against Pyrites.

"I have to see my son," said Harry at once, when Arrington had finished.

"Your son is sleeping right now. He is quite well, and there is nothing to see," snapped Professor Arrington. "Don't you think that the safety of the castle is more pressing?"

Harry already wanted to protest, changed his opinion and murmured, "But what am I supposed to do about it? I have no idea how he could have apparated out of the grounds just like that. Or could he have sabotaged any of the wards?"

"I don't think so," said Professor Arrington. "Minerva is administrator of all the wards. Only she could lift them. In my opinion, Pyrites didn't apparate. He must have done something different. Anyway, Tyron is setting up some extra security right now. Still, it would be nice to have a couple of Aurors in the castle. Besides, it's still possible that Pyrites had support from inside Hogwarts. You may want to investigate that."

"Sure," said Harry. "I will return to the Ministry and bring some support. I also have to alert Proudfoot - now that everything indicates that Pyrites is also the wizard who attacked the Hogwarts Express and killed Firenze, we might be able to track him down. At least he has left the magical protection around Hogwarts - I think that has prevented us to catch him earlier."

"Be sure that you send an entire army after him, then," responded Arrington. "He is more powerful as a duelist than any other wizard I have ever seen, except maybe Tyron. I could barely hold my own against him, and, in all modesty, I don't think that many of your Aurors would even have a chance against me."

"Plus, how are we supposed to catch him, if he is able to vanish into thin air?" asked Ron. "Our usual anti-apparition enchantments won't be of much use then."

"Yeah… Damn, that's all a huge disaster! And what about those goblins in the forest? We have to get rid of them, at once! I will have to send a battalion Aurors there, no matter how they might react, they attacked my son! And this Pyrites is a real problem as well - how can a single person cause so much trouble?" burst out Harry.

"Voldemort was a single person," said Arrington quietly. "And according to all we know, Pyrites is at least as mad as him, and even more powerful than Voldemort used to be."

"But he doesn't have any followers - has he?" said Ron anxiously. "Surely he can cause a lot of trouble - but he cannot cause a war alone, can he?"

"It makes no sense to worry about that now," said Harry, pulling himself together. "In due time, we will talk about everything at length in the Ministry. For now, we have to deal with Hogwarts security. Professor Arrington, we will return as soon as possible. Thank you for informing us. And - thank you for saving my son."

Arrington only nodded, and Harry and Ron stepped into the fireplace and vanished.

O

When Albus awoke, the hospital wing was full of people. Next to his bed sat Quentin, Scorpius, his father, his mother, his brother and Uncle Neville. Surprised, he pulled the blanket closer to his chin.

"How are you feeling, Albus?" asked Scorpius anxiously. "Madam Pomfrey told us you would wake up soon, and we all wanted to be there," he explained.

"F-fine… Dad! The Resurrection Stone - the goblins - Pyrites - I'm so sorry -"

"Calm down, son, everything has been taken care of," said Harry soothingly. "The goblins have left the forest and are far away now, and as you probably remember, Professor Smethwyck and Professor Arrington chased Pyrites away. You are absolutely safe now, and there is no reason for you to worry about anything now."

"But - Professor Flitwick…"

Harry hesitated. "Professor Flitwick is right now at St Mungo's," he said carefully. "The healers there haven't quite yet figured out, which kind of spell hit him, but I'm sure, that he will completely recover."

James threw Harry a suspicious look, but Albus didn't notice the uncertainty in his father's voice.

"Until Professor Flitwick is back, Professor Arrington will be the Ravenclaw Head of House," added Uncle Neville.

Albus nodded and turned towards Quentin.

"Quentin - you were right. About everything. I'm  _so_  sorry that you were caught - and I jinxed you…"

"It's alright, Albus," said Quentin quietly. "I would rather have been wrong… But you're going to be fine, and that's all that matters now. I'm sorry that I wanted to betray you."

"No, Quentin," said Ginny gently. "You were  _really_  a faithful friend - I'm very proud that Albus has such great friends, by the way. It was very brave of you to stand up against your own friends."

"… TO HIM AT ONCE!" shrieked a loud, female voice suddenly from outside the hospital wing. Everyone whirled around.

"What…" started Neville, but the answer came soon enough. The door to the hospital wing flew open, and a short, plump woman with greasy, blond hair stormed inside. Albus recognized her - she was Quentin's mother. On her heels were Professor Arrington and Headmistress McGonagall personally. Quentin flinched and instinctively ducked.

"Headmistress!" said Madam Pomfrey with an outraged voice. "What is -"

But her voice was drowned by the screech of Quentin's mother. "QUENTIN!" she screamed, as if her son was deaf. "Come with me, at once! We are going home! This school is not appropriate for you at all! MOVE, we haven't got all day!"

"Mrs Simiol!" said Professor McGonagall, looking gracefully down at the much shorter woman. "Calm down! You have of course every right to take your son home, but I assure you, the castle is an absolutely safe place for him! There is no reason at all for hysteria!"

"SAFE PLACE? As long as it isn't attacked by goblins or madmen or Fiendfyre, you mean? As long as no one throws himself from the towers? As long as no one has to jump out of a train? My son will go to Beauxbatons, where he belongs. Now COME, boy!" screamed Mrs Simiol.

Quentin looked helplessly from Albus to Scorpius and hastily back to his mother. "Maybe young Mr Simiol would like a moment to say goodbye to his friends?" suggested Professor Arrington, looking slightly derisively down at Mrs Simiol, who, judging by the red colour of her face, didn't seem to like this proposal at all, but Professor McGonagall nodded vigorously.

"That's a good idea," she said in a firm voice, allowing no protest. "Follow me to my office, if you please, Mrs Simiol, there are a few formalities to be clarified. You can fetch your son after that."

Quentin threw Professor Arrington a grateful look, who gravely nodded and left the hospital wing after Professor McGonagall and Mrs Simiol. Neville, Harry, Ginny and James followed his example.

"Quentin - is there anything we can do -" began Albus, but Scorpius cut him off.

"Listen, Quentin, we haven't got all day," he nagged in a very good imitation of Mrs Simiol. He quickly became serious again and handed Quentin a golden snitch.

"This snitch contains a special floo powder," explained Scorpius. "You only have to unscrew it, throw the powder into a fireplace like usual floo powder and say 'Malfoy Manor' - and it will bring you directly to my home from any place in Britain. So you can visit me anytime, even if you have problems at home - with your parents. Just be sure that no one knows of it!"

"I will - thank you!" stammered Quentin.

"Bye, Quentin. Please come back," said Albus.

"We'll miss you," added Scorpius.

Quentin nodded sadly. "I will miss you too," he said.

The door to the hospital wing opened, and Professor Arrington came in. "It's time, Mr Simiol," he said. "Your mother is already boiling. I wish you all the best on your further way. It was a pleasure to teach you. Please remember - you will always be welcome at Hogwarts."

Quentin only managed to nod, waved one last time at Albus and Scorpius, and followed Professor Arrington out of the hospital wing.

O

"Great, Ragnuk," said Urguk. "Really great. Your fantastic plan has failed. Everything was fruitless. And we had no chance against the Aurors. What are we going to do now?"

"At least we managed to flee, before they could capture us," grunted Golod. "Plus, we recovered the Resurrection Stone. We should pool our strengths now and openly attack the wand-carriers."

"I agree," said Ragnuk. "A group of radical Squibs has joined the AWA; next, we will try to get the giants, werewolves and vampires on our side. Maybe even a few house-elves. The wand-carriers are weak right now; they have to deal with Pyrites and Simiol. We will start with Gringotts. Its protection is quite weak, since the wizards took over there; we should be able to overrun it effortlessly. When we control their gold, we practically control their complete economy. Are the accoutrements ready, Golod?"

"Yes," answered Golod, the chief smith. "We have hundreds of magic-resistant armors, thousands of daggers, which are impervious to every kind of defensive enchantment. With the help of the Squibs, we have copied this muggle concept, grenades, as they call it, and added a few nice features. Plus, we developed a giant bomb, also together with the Squibs. They really know a lot about war techniques, I must say. In theory, we should be able to destroy a huge building like even Gringotts or the Ministry. We should only use this as a last resort, though. But to take Gringotts should be no problem. We are ready for a war with the wizards, but are they ready for a war with us? I don't think so."

"We have practically every goblin in whole Britain on our side," added Urguk. "We know Gringotts better than every wizard, and we can establish powerful barriers that can hardly be broken by the wand-carriers' kind of magic. It will be an easy task to conquer and defend Gringotts."

O

Philandros Pyrites was born on the 24th of December 1978 as son of Jason and Medea Pyrites. His father, Jason, was a death eater who was killed by Aurors when Philandros was five years old. His mother, Medea, invented spells to change the own body. She also experimented with this dangerous kind of spells on little Philandros, before he was eleven years old. Some of those worked and made Philandros' mind and body work faster. Others backfired and resulted in mysterious illnesses or rashes. All of them were incredibly painful for young Philandros, but Medea accepted this as a necessary sacrifice, to make her son the most powerful wizard on earth. When Philandros was five years old, he got a wand and was trained in magic by Medea.

At Hogwarts, Philandros was quite unchallenged, as his mother had already taught him almost everything the teachers told him there. Philandros was sorted into Slytherin and went through his school career completely alone. He had no friends and didn't want any. During his lessons and exams, he tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, because his mother had inculcated him with the maxim not to attract any attention.

Philandros greatest interest was the invention of new dark arts. When he was fourteen, he could effortlessly cast the Unforgivable Curses. His favourite spell, though, was the Fiendfyre. When Medea had showed him how to perform this curse, he had been mesmerized by the fiery demons and beasts. Philandros could command and control them as he wished. He was able to speak their language, a language no other human could speak or understand.

When Philandros was fifteen, Medea died from the consequences of a spell that should have turned her body into the state as it used to be when she was 20. Philandros didn't care about this; he felt no love for the woman who had caused him so much pain, and he was independent of her long since. After his seventh school year, he went into the wilderness and continued his research on dark magic. He cast many spells on himself; he was much more skilled in this kind of magic than Medea had ever been.

When he was happy with his body and his skills were honed to complete perfection, he decided that he needed an ideology to get the opportunity to make use of his magic in the real world. It wasn't difficult at all to decide on such an ideology; he remembered his father's and mother's speeces about the purity of blood, and he watched the magic Voldemort and his followers executed in order to achieve their aims. Obviously, the purity of blood was the ideal ideology to live out dark magic. Thus, Philandros read dozens of anti-muggle pamphlets and cast a few spells on his own mind to fix his new worldview firmly in his head.

To cause the obviously necessary, cleaning chaos, he had to somehow break the will of the Potter-Weasley-clan. Philandros wasn't in a hurry; when he heard, that Albus Potter, Rose Weasley and Alice Longbottom came to Hogwarts this year, he applied for the job of Potions Professor at Hogwarts. His skills as potioneer were excellent, as he often had brewed highly complex draughts in order to change his appearance or mind state. He easily got the job and began to teach students, enjoying the act he had to put up.

Life at Hogwarts was incredibly fun; Philandros got to know the goblins, who hid in the Forbidden Forest, as their leader, Ragnuk, had been his ally for quite some time. Of course, Philandros thought that the goblins were dirty, churlish beings, but he enjoyed their plan to capture Albus Severus Potter. Pyrites even supported them with this, casting an Imperius Curse on the chronically weak Molly Weasley girl. How fitting! A tragic suicide, a psychologically labile girl jumping from a tower; it was just delicious.

Just for fun, he stole a colleague's wand to kill the centaur Firenze, who didn't want to join the goblins' new formed alliance. As a nice side effect, this gained him the complete trust of the goblins. Even more enjoyable was the Fiendfyre assault on the Hogwarts Express; unfortunately, the stupid, eagle-transforming Arrington had been on the train and prevented the worst, but still two students died and the wizarding world was certainly shocked. And shock was good, because shock was the precursor to chaos.

The next chance to cause confusion were the new British-French tensions. A war between those two countries would be just what Philandros needed. The goblins agreed and came up with the plot to lay a murder at Francois Simiol's door; Philandros gladly helped them by changing a goblin's mind accordingly. He had perfected the altering of memories long ago, to an extent that no one at the Ministry would recognize it.

Unfortunately, Philandros failed in killing Albus Severus Potter, but it didn't really matter. He had done more than enough to cause the Ministry lots of headaches by severely injuring Filius Flitwick in a completely unknown way and mysteriously vanishing from the Hogwarts grounds. For a short moment, he had been tempted to debug the limits of his skills by duelling Tyron Smethwyck and Aaron Arrington, but in the end it seemed a bit risky. He wasn't quite able to defeat those two simultaneously - not yet. But Philandros wasn't going to hide. The Ministry would better wrap themselves up warmly.

O

"What do you mean,  _you have no idea what to do_?" asked a furious Professor McGonagall. "Aren't you supposed to be a highly skilled healer? Filius is only unconscious! Surely, you must know by now where the problem lies!"

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," said Augustus Pye, the healer-in-charge, calmly. "We have tried absolutely everything we could possibly think of, but to no avail. It's a complete mystery what exactly has hit Professor Flitwick, he just wouldn't awake. Physically, he should be fine, as far as we can see; there were no major injuries, and we healed a few scratches quite easily. He is breathing, his heart is beating, all the somatic functions are working, although his body is very weak, which is quite strange, as he is now unconscious for only two days. But it's as if his mind is completely paralysed, he just won't react to any kind of stimuli."

Professor McGonagall took a deep breath and sighed. "I see. I understand you are doing your best, Healer Pye. How are you intending to proceed further?" she asked in a more conciliatory voice.

"Currently, we are completely in the dark," said Healer Pye. "It would be very useful to find out what kind of curse has struck Professor Flitwick. Probably it won't be possible to ask the person who cast the spell, obviously, but you said Professor Arrington and Albus Potter were at least there? Maybe they could describe the spell after all. We would then consult the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry and see if we can find out something useful. If not, then we'll of course still be trying to think of anything, but it will be a matter of pure luck if we are successful or not."

"Very well. I will speak to Aaron and Albus and send them over. I'll better be going now; surely you have a lot of work waiting. And of course we need a new Charms and a Potions teacher for the rest of the term… Good day, Healer Pye."

"Good day to you, too, Professor McGonagall."

O

Albus' life at Hogwarts slowly returned to something that could be called relative normality. He had had a long conversation with his father, who had been considerably more upset than Albus would have thought and sharply admonished him not to risk his life anymore.

Of course, he missed Quentin and was worried that he would never see his friend again, but apart from this, the daily routine at school was quite enjoyable; even more so, as the Potions and Charms lessons were for the time being cancelled.

At the third day after his trip into the Forbidden Forest, he had Transfiguration as last lesson of the day. Albus worked on his own again, not paying attention to Professor Arrington's regular class, which Albus had covered already weeks ago. When the lecture was over, Professor Arrington told Albus to stay behind.

"I just got a message that the Headmistress wants to see us, Albus," he said calmly.

"Us?" asked Albus, surprised. He was slightly uncomfortable; only yesterday, Professor McGonagall had severely reprimanded him for his actions and punished him with a month grounding.

"Yes," said Professor Arrington. "I don't know what it's about, either. Nothing to worry about, I'm sure."

While they were walking to the Headmistress' office, Albus asked Professor Arrington, if they could continue their special lessons.

Professor Arrington took his time, before he answered. "I don't see a reason why not," he answered eventually. "On the contrary; now that it's clear you're being targeted, you should certainly be able to defend yourself. Although I of course trust that you will act more responsibly from now on," he added.

"Of course," said Albus relieved.

"Filius," said Professor Arrington to the gargoyle in front of the Headmistress' office, which immediately jumped aside.

"Ah, Professor Arrington, Mr Potter, thank you for coming," said Professor McGonagall formally, when they entered the office. "I just visited Professor Flitwick; he is unfortunately still unconscious. Healer Pye wants to see you two, though; he hopes that you can give him valuable hints about the curse that was fired at Filius."

"Okay," said Professor Arrington. "We are going to floo immediately to St Mungo's then, I take it?"

"Yes," answered the Headmistress. "You can use my fireplace. Mr Potter, you go first."

Albus stepped forward, took a handful of floo powder, clearly said "St Mungo's" and arrived at the hospital seconds later. Professor Arrington joined him shortly after.

Augustus Pye, the Healer who was responsible for Professor Flitwick, already waited for them and took them to a small room.

"Please sit down. Young Mr Potter, why don't you try one of our healthy-breath-bonbons? Make yourself comfortable. That's it. Now, as Professor McGonagall has probably told you, I wanted to ask you about this mysterious spell that struck our venerable Charms master. Maybe you could see a jet of light, or hear the incantation?"

Professor Arrington waved to Albus to answer first.

"Well, there was a jet of light, a purple one," said Albus nervously, having some difficulty to speak because of the sharp bonbon. "I couldn't hear an incantation, though… When the jet of light struck Professor Flitwick, he immediately collapsed."

"That's practically as much as I know," said Professor Arrington. "It was certainly no registered or in any way well-known curse, otherwise I would have recognized it. I was kind of busy at that time, but if I'm not completely mistaken, Pyrites didn't speak the incantation loudly. The wand movement was quite unusual, I believe… But to make more precise statements regarding this, I would have to use a Denkarium."

"I see," said Healer Pye. "Thank you for the information you gave us. Please visit the Department of Mysteries and copy down your memory for the Denkarium. Hopefully, we can find the essence of this particular spell and use this knowledge to heal Professor Flitwick."

"Very well," answered Professor Arrington. "Come, Albus, I better take you back to Hogwarts before I enter this dark venue. Goodbye, Healer Pye."

"Bye," said Albus hastily and followed Professor Arrington out of the room. A few minutes later, he was back at the Ravenclaw common room and told Scorpius everything.


End file.
